Harry Potter and the Rift in Time
by Talicr
Summary: What if Harry Potter was kidnapped by Voldemort? What if his friends thought him dead? What if he was held for seven years? What if he escaped, and he came back? Warnings: torture, AU, possibly sensitive religious theme
1. Telephone Call

**Disclaimer:** Oh gosh! No! Put the lawyers _back_ in their briefcases! I do not own Harry Potter! Do you really think that if _I_ owned it I would be sitting here at my _dinosaur_ computer in _Billings, Montana?_ Heck, no! Man, I wouldn't even be on this site! I'd be living it up on some private yacht or something while the publisher tells me that I just sold another three million copies, give or take a couple hundred thousand. dreamy look sighs Anyway, you get the point. rolls eyes Yes, the judge needs to leave too. And tell him to take the bailiff and jury with him.

**CHAPTER ONE**

**Telephone Call**

_He was sitting atop a huge throne, looking down at a small crowd comprised of his most devout and highest-standing followers. But, even though they were among his most trusted minions, he was furious with them. It was a horrible feeling, almost as if something acidic were rending, tearing, and eating away at his insides. But that didn't stop him from feeling the burning anger._

"_How is it that my most trusted Death Eaters are not able to follow my orders?" he said, but it wasn't his normal voice of a beginning baritone. It emerged sounding high pitched, cold, and evil. "Even orders so simple as capturing a sixteen-year-old boy and delivering him to me." He stood up. "Who of you will dare to defend themselves?" Every single one of the masked people out in the crowd shuddered, but not one dared to speak out. Then one broke down. _

"_Master! Please! Forgive me!" the man shouted, throwing himself down, prostrating himself in front of his master. "It's not my fau–" The man was suddenly cut off as his master extracted his wand from his midnight black robes, pointed it at the cowering man, and stated loudly, but calmly, _"Crucio."_ The man gave a shuddering cry and convulsed down on the floor. "Master! Please! Please, have mercy! Mercy!" But the wand was kept level to the man's chest and a murderous will bored down upon the pleading man. Soon his cries for mercy became blood-curdling cries of unimaginable pain. He was convulsing so violently on the floor that he was almost bent back in two. He calmly studied the dieing man, knowing that he would soon break his own back. Right before the sickening crack, he released the man from his torment._

"_Now, you see, Avery, that you have no right to beg for mercy from me when it was _you_ who has not fulfilled my wishes._ You_ have wronged me. And you can also not claim that this situation is not your fault, when it is. Do not ever lie to me Avery, for you will either regret it, or not live long enough to do so. Do I make myself clear to you?" Amid the wracking sobs there was a discernible whimpering. "Yes, Master. Yes, Master."_

"_Very good," he said coldly. "Now, is there any among you who would care to elaborate on Avery's explanation for your disappointing failure?"_

_For a moment there was silence as none of the masked people dared even to breathe. Then one brave man stepped forward._

"_Master, please, allow me to apologize for our failure. The mudblood lover Dumbledore has placed the Potter boy with his mother's relatives. We cannot approach the dwelling where his mother's blood still resides. We have been searching for a way to overcome this dilemma, but I swear to you, my lord, that we will." The man humbly bowed his head._

"_Ah, Lucius. I can always count on you to do my bidding. But you, of course, understand the direness of our situation. Dumbledore had to explain to Harry Potter the nature of the prophecy, especially after the death of his dear godfather." He laughed maliciously. "So we can now use dear Harry Potter as a weapon against himself, Dumbledore, the Light, and everything that he stands for and believes in. Or we can when you fulfill my wishes and deliver him to me," he added with a note of deadly coldness._

"_Of course, Master," Lucius bent his head in humble acquiescence. _

"_Do hurry, Lucius," he said, almost sounding aggrieved. "I would hate to have to make an example out of you as I have for Avery," he said, indicating the groveling man._

"_Of course, Master," Lucius repeated. "If I may be so bold as to say so, my lord, I have formulated a plan of my own design."_

"_Ah, Lucius, you never fail to amaze me. Why hasn't this no doubt brilliant plan been put into action?"_

"_The others, my lord, thought it inefficient, and then dismissed it," Lucius tattled importantly. _(AN: tattle tale)

"_Ah, they will be punished severely for that transgression," he replied, sounding sad, but, of course, he was not. His anger had been curbed to some degree, and had been replaced with a feeling of dangerous superiority._

He felt himself fading away from the presence of the murderous man, awaking from the horrible, true nightmare.

Harry Potter awoke from the dream with a start. He and his bedcovers were drenched in a cold sweat. It was happening often now. More often than not, Harry's not-so-peaceful dreams were interrupted with visions of a livid and murderous Voldemort. What scared him usually more than anything else was the fact that Harry was in the place of Voldemort in these dreams. He saw the happenings through the Dark Lord's eyes, from his perspective. And afterward, the murderous rage sometimes lingered, forcing him to stay in bed until he simmered down. If he didn't, he felt there was a good possibility that aurors would be coming to collect him and deliver him to an Azkaban cell.

There was a soft, low, worried hooting coming from the window in Harry's room. "I'm alright, Hedwig," Harry breathed, relieved that the dream wasn't real. He always had the fear that, when he awoke, the dream was his reality. That he was actually there with Voldemort. "I'm alright." He looked toward where his beautiful snowy owl perched on the window sill. The first rays of sunlight were just beginning to touch the sky, but the stars were still twinkling merrily and the moon still shone brightly as if all was right with the world. Harry was still very groggy. He had fallen asleep late the night before, unable to settle for some reason, (AN Oooh, foreshadow!) and the vision had come upon him immediately. Harry had gotten very little, if any, actually restful sleep.

He sighed. _That was horrible. And yet, I can't even remember all of it. Weird. I just have this lingering sense of foreboding. Stupid, really, for me to be scared of something that I can't even remember. Maybe I should write Sirius about it. He'll know what it's all about, _Harry thought confidently. Harry then threw back his dampened covers, put on his glasses, got up, and quietly rummaged around for parchment, quill, and ink jar. He was already through with the entire 'Dear Sirius, Hope you're well. Listen I've got something really weird to tell you. It might be impor–' Then he remembered that he would never get a letter back. In fact, his letter might not even be delivered anywhere. Sirius was dead. Bellatrix Lestrange had killed him._ No,_ Harry reminded himself. _No, you as good as killed him yourself. It's _your_ fault that you decided to take Voldemort's bait and go after a Sirius in Voldemort's clutches when Sirius wasn't even really there. You _had_ to play hero. Because of your love for excitement and adventure, Sirius is dead._

Harry sat down roughly on the bed, head in his hands, waiting for the tears to come. But they wouldn't. His eyes remained uncomfortably dry, not allowing a single tear to fall, nor even his eyes to well up. Harry had held back and suppressed his anger and sadness over his loss for so long that crying now seemed alien to his body. The last month had seemed to go by in a blur. Nothing had happened that summer that stood out enough for Harry to remember. It seemed like only yesterday that Harry was getting off the train at Platform 9 ¾ and submitting to the Dursley's company and care, if it could be considered such. The only things that he remembered were the endless visions of Voldemort's plans and doings; the ones he actually could remember, at least, and, on his 'breaks' from Voldemort, recollections of Sirius vanishing behind the veil in the archway, never to return. The only thing that Harry had to look forward to was his birthday. Then he would get loads of mail from Ron, Hermione, Professor Dumbledore, and maybe even some from the Order of the Phoenix like Tonks, or Lupin, or maybe even Mad-eye Moody. But as Hedwig hooted once again, Harry realized that he needed to look no farther for his birthday than his window. There was already a pile of mail there and even as Harry looked, he could see a bird-shape soaring toward his window. _It's my birthday?_ Harry asked himself, trying to account for the days that had gone by and finding it impossible as he watched a dignified barn owl drop a letter on the top of the pile then fly away. _It's my birthday?_ Harry thought again, still unbelieving. He got up and walked over to the pile of his mail. He picked up the top one, not the one the barn owl had delivered, Harry noticed when he saw that that one had slid down a bit. He opened the letter.

Hey Harry!

How's your summer been so far? Mine's only been marginal, really. I've finished all of my homework already and am so _bored!_ I really hope you don't mind that I haven't sent you that many letters lately, Harry. I've been a bit preoccupied with school things and family issues and events that have come up just recently. Oh, no! I've got to run. We're leaving to go to a 'family get-together'. Or at least that's what my mum called it. Happy birthday, Harry! Oh, I hope your terrible aunt and uncle, and that dreadful pig cousin of yours don't make it too horrible for you. My family and the Weasley's are going to Diagon Alley in a week to get all of the supplies and everything. Think you can make it? I really hope that you can, Harry.

With love,

Hermione

The last few sentences were rather sloppy and her closing and signature were basically scribbles._ Wow, she must have been in a real hurry not to have put more time into her precise, perfect letters,_ Harry thought teasingly, putting her hastily wrapped gift aside and reaching for the next.

_It's my birthday. I'm sixteen._

Later that morning after everyone was awake and at the dining table, Harry was frying some eggs while Aunt Petunia fussed over Dudley's hair and Uncle Vernon read the newspaper. The telephone rang and Aunt Petunia snapped at Harry, "Go answer th –"

She stopped and thought better of it. "Never mind. You'll probably overdo the eggs. I'll get it," she snapped. She got up and walked stiffly over to the telephone and answered with a brisk "Hello?" She listened for a moment then said, "Yes, this is she." She listened for another few seconds then replied, "I'm sorry, I don't participate in sales or surveys over the telephone. But you are quite welcome to send me some written information on your product and then let me see how the item works. If that's all, sir, I shall bid you good day." The man was persistent and asked for more of her time and Aunt Petunia said, "Well get on with it then." She listened for a moment and then her eyes became wide. "Vernon!" she cried frantically. Uncle Vernon put down the papers and looked sharply at Aunt Petunia. Seeing her ghost-white face and stunned expression, he quickly stood up and waddled over to her. They quickly took the cordless phone into the next room. Harry and Dudley looked at each other, and then raced for the door to listen. Dudley once again won the best spot because of his sheer size. But this time there was no place for Harry to listen, seeing as how Dudley took up the entire area. Disgusted, Harry walked back to the eggs to see that they were to his relatives' satisfaction. He heard a groan and saw Dudley get up stiffly. When Harry made for the door, he said, "Don't bother. They've gone upstairs. It's not that I wouldn't love to see _you_ get in trouble for eavesdropping and ruining our breakfast, but I hate overdone eggs."

"My, that was a big word for you Diddy-kins," Harry mocked. "Eavesdropping, hmm, I would've thought that entirely beyond your vocabulary. Oh, I do hope that Dudley-wuddley didn't strain himself."

Dudley would have growled a response back at Harry, but right then, Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia walked back into the dining room/kitchen area, casting uneasy, sidelong glances at Harry.

"Mum! Dad!" Dudley yelled triumphantly. "Harry was –"

He was cut off when his mother said to him, "Now, now Dudley. I'm sure it wasn't all that bad."

Dudley gaped at his mother and then began to complain loudly. Harry couldn't help but also notice that their behavior was odd. As he served the perfectly done eggs to his only family, he wondered what that call was about and who had been on the other end.

"Hello?"

"Mrs. Dursley, I presume," said an eerie voice on the other end of the telephone line.

"Yes, this is she," Petunia replied, still a little fumed about her juvenile nephew's behavior and attitude.

"I have a proposition for you that you may want to consider."

"I'm sorry, I don't participate in sales or surveys over the telephone," Petunia replied stiffly. _Oh these telemarketers! No one should ever buy from them! If they've got something to sell, they can bring me the papers guaranteeing me my money's worth and the object in question to prove what they claim it can do,_ she thought harshly, giving no leeway for the man's assumed profession. "But you are quite welcome to send me some written information on your product and then let me see how the item works. If that's all, sir, I shall bid you good day."

"Actually, ma'am, I have quite a different proposition for you to consider. Though I _can_ guarantee that it will make your life better and so much easier."

Petunia paused for a moment, and then her curiosity got the better of her. "Well, get on with it then," she said curtly.

"Mrs. Dursley, hasn't that no-good, abnormal nephew of yours been a nuisance and a plague upon your life ever since you found him on your doorstep some fifteen years ago? Tell me, Mrs. Dursley, how much do you want to get rid of him?"

Petunia's eyes had gotten large and when the man had finished she choked out "Vernon!" Her husband came over to her and then they proceeded out the door, up the stairs, and into their own room. Petunia ordered the man on the other end to repeat what he had just told her to her husband while she held the phone between hers and her husband's head so they could both hear.

"What do you mean, 'get rid of him'?" Vernon demanded when the man finished.

"I mean, sir, that my colleagues and I are willing to pay you a substantial amount if you turn your dear nephew over to us."

"How much?" Petunia asked, a little greedily.

"50,000 pounds."

She and Vernon gasped. There was a long drawn-out pause between the three speakers. Finally Vernon said, "And…uh… what exactly would we need to do to acquire this amount from you?"

"When you take your nephew to Kings Cross Station, park in the very back of the lot. Five men wearing long black coats will approach you. Hand your nephew along with all of his belongings over to them. Only when we have the boy in hand will you receive the money." The man paused. He then continued, "Do we have an accord?"

"Yes," Vernon said automatically.

"Good, do not forget." The line went dead.

"Vernon!" Petunia whispered, shocked that her husband would sell family (even unwanted family) to another person.

"Oh come off it Petunia!" Vernon growled. "Think about it! We've done everything for that boy ever since the day he was abandoned on our doorstep. I wholeheartedly agree with Marge on this. We should have taken him straight to the orphanage. He has been nothing but an unwanted nuisance, just like that man said. No one has to know. We can say that he ran away. I don't want him near Dudley any longer. I wanted to throw him out when Dudley came home sick that one time when that boy bewitched him. You didn't let me when that bloody owl flew in with that red letter and then started talking to you! Well, now's my chance to amend that mistake of letting you get away with that foolishness. He's leaving and we're getting paid to get rid of him."

Petunia didn't argue with her husband, but still felt slightly guilty. When she went back downstairs, she even let the boy get away with berating Dudley. She was giving up the last part of her sister. She had never really liked her sister, Lily, but when she had died, she had realized that she didn't hate her either.

"Oy! Hermione!" Ron yelled after his friend. She whirled about with a huge grin on her face. "Ron!" she squealed, ecstatic to see her long-time friend. They ran to each other and met with a brief hug. They exchanged the usual niceties of friends coming together again like how was your summer? what did you do? etc. Finally at the same time they asked each other, "Is Harry with you?" Then they both answered "No." Ron frowned.

"Oh I bet that nasty family of his didn't let him come," Hermione growled. "They never let him do anything, just sit around in that stupid little room of his and do _their_ work. They've never brought him to Diagon Alley before. Hagrid had to bring him the first year, he went with you the second, he stayed the last couple weeks in the Leaky Cauldron on the third, went with you again during the fourth and fifth years. They never do anything for him except dump him off at Kings Cross!" she finished vehemently.

"Wow, Mione. You're probably right but he might just be taking a while."

Three hours passed.

"I knew it," Hermione moaned. "They're absolutely horrible to him."

"I knew we should have stopped off at Harry's house and picked him up Dad!" Ron told his father. "His family are strictly Muggles. They don't want anything to do with the wizarding world!"

"You know he's right Arthur," Molly Weasley told her husband gently. "How's poor Harry going to get his school supplies if he's never able to come here to Diagon Alley and not allowed to interact with our world at all?"

"Well, we're ready to leave right now," Arthur Weasley admitted sadly. "We'll write him and ask if he's had a chance to come here. If he hasn't, then we'll offer to take him. Does that sound all right to everyone?" He waited for the general consent of everyone there. "Good. It's a plan then. Good-bye Hermione. We'll see you at Kings Cross." And with that, they parted.

They had no idea that they were overheard.

Dear Ron,

Thanks for the offer, but I've already made it to Diagon Alley and got all my stuff there. How's Hermione? Did everything go smoothly finding all your supplies? Let me know when I see you on the train, okay?

Harry

P.S. Sorry it's so short. The Dursley's still don't like me sending letters to our world. If they catch me, I might not be able to come back to Hogwarts this year.

"See, Hermione? It says he'd meet us here but he isn't here. Do you think that he's just late or something?"

"I don't know Ron," Hermione admitted. "I hope he makes it. Otherwise he'll have to send an owl to the school requesting a pick-up. Then he'll probably get detention for not being on time and for the trouble."

The clock chimed eleven.

"Oh no," Ron wailed. "He's missed it. Things just aren't going well for Harry this year." He paused, and then lowered his voice. "You didn't mention Sirius in your letters at all, did you?" he asked cautiously.

"Ron!" Hermione yelled, affronted that Ron would think her stupid enough to do that to Harry. "Of course not! You didn't, did you?"

"No," Ron replied. "It's just that he seems to be avoiding us. He didn't meet us in the Alley. He has only returned one of my letters. Now he skips the train. I just thought that maybe one of us made him real mad or something."

"He's only answered a couple of mine too," Hermione admitted. "But, then again, I haven't sent all that many. It's a good guess Ron, but Harry doesn't seem to be the type to avoid talking to us because he's angry. He'd usually just come out and tell us."

"Yeah, I guess so," said Ron. "He'll probably be in the Great Hall when we get there, waiting for us. We can ask him what happened then."

"Yeah," Hermione agreed.

"Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger, I'd like a word with you in my office if you please," Professor McGonagall told the pair of uneasy looking sixteen-year-olds.

"Yes, Professor," Hermione replied.

"Sure," said Ron, not really caring that his reply lacked decorum. He was too distracted. Harry hadn't been there.

"Have either of you seen Mr. Potter about?" Professor McGonagall asked once they were within her office.

"No, Professor," they replied in unison. Then Hermione added, "Didn't he send you an owl requesting a pick-up? That's what we thought he would do since he missed the train."

"Mr. Potter wasn't on the train?" McGonagall asked, with the slightest hint of surprise in her voice. She shook her head, as if clearing thoughts. "No, he didn't send an owl. We have no idea as to his whereabouts."

Suddenly, Ron dug into his pocket. "Remember, Mione? In his letter, he said that if the Muggles caught him sending letters, they might not let him come to school this year! What if they caught him when he sent this?" He extracted the crumpled letter and handed it over to the head of Gryffindor House. She examined it closely.

"Hmm. I might need to hand this over to Professor Dumbledore. If we need to, we shall send someone to go and collect Mr. Potter." She smiled at her two pupils. "The two of you need not worry. If Mr. and Mrs. Dursley are holding Harry there against his will, we will promptly bring him here. You'll have your friend back soon." She stood up. "The password to Gryffindor Common room is 'Godric's honor.' You may go."

As the two of them were walking along the familiar path to the Gryffindor dormitories, Hermione said, "I don't understand why you're still so gloomy, Ron. You heard McGonagall. She said Harry would be back here soon. You'll probably wake up and find him in his bed."

"Yeah, but she also said _if_ those Muggles were holding him. What if they aren't? What if something happened to Harry?"

Hermione had no reply for all that. She just said, "I guess we can just hope."

"He wasn't in the dormitories or the Common room this morning, Hermione," Ron informed his friend in the Great Hall over breakfast.

Hermione was about to reply when Professors McGonagall and Dumbledore came up behind them.

"Will you two accompany us up to my office please," Professor Dumbledore requested quietly. "There is something you both ought to see." His expressions betrayed nothing of his inner thoughts but Professor McGonagall looked like she was containing nervousness and anxiety. Hermione and Ron looked at each other, not sure what to think. Slowly and worriedly, they got up and followed their teachers to the phoenix at the head of Dumbledore's office. "_Pop tart_," Professor Dumbledore spoke to the phoenix and it slowly opened up to reveal the Headmaster's chamber.

A beautiful adult phoenix was perched on top of a stand looking a something white and red with concern. Ron was about to say "'Lo, Fawkes." When Hermione screamed "HEDWIG!" Ron looked down at the white and red form. It was Hedwig, Harry's beautiful snowy owl, stained with blood.

Ron's greeting changed to a strangled yell as he ran with Hermione up to the prostrated owl.

"She's alive," Hermione breathed. "Just hurt." She paused then said, sounding sick, "A lot of this blood isn't even hers."

Ron looked up at Professor Dumbledore. "Is Harry okay?" he demanded.

"I'm afraid that we do not know. An hour before dawn this morning, Hedwig came flying in. Or, rather, attempting to fly. Even though much of the lost blood staining her feathers isn't hers, enough of it is to have injured her greatly. There are a couple of possibilities as to what has happened here. Harry sent Hedwig ahead to ask for assistance and she was attacked and lost the message along the way is the brighter of the two. However, the grim fact may be that Harry was attacked and managed to send Hedwig forward to ask for help. I have asked Madam Pomfrey to come up here within the hour to treat Hedwig. As soon as she is well, we will request her to take us to where Harry was when he sent her ahead. If it was at the Dursley's household, we may have to inquire from the family some information, as far as they know, on Harry's whereabouts."

Ron looked down at Hedwig, who was now awake and blinking up at him earnestly. She then struggled up to her feet and tried to get up into the air again. She hopped painfully toward the window in Dumbledore's office, trying to get some lift. _She wants to go for Harry,_ Ron realized. _He's really in trouble isn't he?_ Ron thought as he reached out to stop Hedwig's futile effort. He didn't realize that he had voiced his quiet inquiry until Professor Dumbledore answered him.

"I cannot say for sure Ron, but I fear the worst. Harry is a danger to Lord Voldemort," Ron winced at the name. "Probably the only real danger that he faces. Voldemort does not know of Harry's capability, and that is most likely the only thing that Harry has working for him instead of against him. Harry has irked Voldemort for fifteen long years. He has not been able to master, defeat, and kill this supposedly defenseless boy five times, including Tom Riddle's attempt on Harry's life. Harry is the only thing that the Light has to fight Voldemort and Voldemort probably suspects this. In all likelihood, Harry has been sought after to be an enemy for the very thing he was fighting for."

Ron looked down, not wanting anyone to see his tears. _How come this had to happen to Harry? Why? Couldn't it have been someone else? Anyone else, except for him? Why Harry?_ He looked over at Hermione and saw that tears were spilling down her face as well, unchecked. "Oh Harry," she moaned.

Professor Dumbledore had turned to Professor McGonagall while the two students tried to sort out these horrible feelings and realizations. But that didn't stop the two from hearing their teachers' conversation.

"Minerva, please send an owl out to the Ministry. Notify them that Harry Potter is missing. We are trying to locate him by the simple means that we possess, but if we are unable to find him, they may have to send out aurors to search for him. If they balk at sparing aurors from the search of Voldemort, inform them that if they do not find Harry, then the war against Voldemort and the Dark is as good as lost. Harry is our only hope." He turned back to his two pupils. "Please do not repeat this information to anyone. All of this may be unnecessary. Harry could be safe and sound in his room on Privet Drive waiting for someone to come and collect him. Do not lose hope yet."

As Ron and Hermione exited their Headmaster's office, trying to wipe away their tears and compose themselves for their peers, they were both having the same, mind-numbing thought. They could think of nothing else throughout the entire day.

_Harry Potter is missing._

AN: Okay, so what do you think? Be gentle, if you would. I did write this about two years ago, after all. I read it over and my only thought was 'I used to write like this?' It's depressing really, learning about passive voice, split infinitives and all that jazz.

I know, I know. Every time I read this I always get the impression that Voldemort is hitting on Malfoy. I mean, come on high, squeaky voice 'Oh, Lucius, you never fail to amaze me. Oh, I just know that your plan is absolutely brilliant! You're so dreamy and smart that I don't even think to ask you're your plan is!' He's practically _simpering!_ But, you know, it's good for a few laughs.

And then the part before it when he's explaining how to use Harry against everyone? It's like he's gloating to himself. Can't you just see him 'laughing maliciously' and doing Mr. Burns' little _'Exxxxellent.'_ Have a bit of understanding, though, if you would. I had to put in a touch of dramatic irony.

Yeah, that letter from Hermione at the beginning. Um, if I remember right, I didn't have any ideas, so I just made some silly excuses about her family having troubles. Just go with it. And doesn't Harry seem just a little slow to grasp the concept that it's his birthday? I meant it to be like he's in shock and it takes just a bit of time for things to sink in, but I think it turned out more of a stupid connotation of Harry. Whoops.

Sorry about Petunia actually having sympathy for Harry. That probably just ruined the image.

You know, it's possible that I made everyone a tad bit stupid. Don't you agree? Take Ron and Hermione for example. 'Oh, I'm sure that nothing bad could've happened to Harry.' 'Yeah, he's only an enemy to the darkest wizard ever. Not to mention he lives in an abusive home.' 'Yeah, and it's not like You-Know-Who isn't brilliant enough to have slipped under Dumbledore's nose quite a few times.' 'Yeah.' They're all in denial. That's all there is to it.

Yeah, you're probably going to consider me quite sadistic, but here goes. I rather enjoyed writing about Ron and Hermione finding Hedwig there. And I loved the heart-wrenching scene where she tries to fly out the window to go back to Harry. Don't hate me because I'm manipulative.

Hope you liked it! Let's see. It's Thursday, so we'll say that Saturday or Sunday will produce the next chapter. Review if you feel so inclined. Hey, review even if you don't. Actually, I would like just about any kind of review. This fic is so far unnamed. If you have any ideas, feel free to let me know. Also, if you don't understand or it something that I wrote just doesn't seem to add up, I would very much appreciate you telling me. It's constructive criticism, after all, and if you're confused, someone else probably is too. I feel I should warn you, however. Reviews that praise me will be worshiped. However, flames will be subjected to my lunch table at school for ridicule and mockery. So if you didn't like it and you want to let me know, you will provide at least a half-hour of entertainment for us.


	2. Captive

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter. If I did, I wouldn't have named that poor character from book four Viktor _Krum!_ I mean seriously, who names _anyone _something like Krum! Even Voldemort sounds better than that. And he even has a second name to fall back on. Tom. Granted Marvolo is a little out there, but it's still better than Krum! Point in theory: I do not own Harry Potter.

**CHAPTER TWO**

**Captive**

Harry awoke to something that sounded like booming thunder. Upon opening his eyes, however, he discovered that he might as well have kept them closed for he could see nothing but utter blackness. _Where am I? _he thought to himself. Then he remembered. He had been betrayed. Hethought back, remembering.

_Oh man! I'm screwed! I never made it to Diagon Alley to get my supplies. Dumbledore might cut me some slack, seeing as how it was the Dursley's fault. Of course, Snape won't let me get away with anything like that. I wonder why Ron or Mione never came to get me?_ Harry was thinking as the Dursleys drove him into London. Surprisingly, they had not objected at all to taking him to King's Cross. Hedwig hooted contentedly inside her cage on his lap. He stuck a finger in and she nipped it affectionately.

They entered the parking lot and Uncle Vernon drove to the very back of the lot. "Why are you back here?" Harry asked. "There are some spaces up there at the front."

"Quiet, boy!" Uncle Vernon snapped. He said it more venomously than usual so Harry was startled into temporary silence. He was about to open the door to go find a trolley for his things when Aunt Petunia locked the doors.

"What are you doing?" Harry protested, annoyed. "It's ten minutes to eleven! I'll miss the train!"

"Hush, child! You can wait a bit longer!" Aunt Petunia stated shakily._ What's wrong with them all?_ Harry wondered when there was a knock on Uncle Vernon's window with a black-gloved hand. He rolled down the window.

"Have you got him?" a familiar, sneering voice asked. _MALFOY!_ Harry realized, stunned. "He's right behind me," Uncle Vernon replied, sounding a bit scared. The doors were unlocked and another gloved hand reached for the handle. Harry recoiled as a woman with a Death Eaters mask on reached for him. Dudley pushed him towards her. "Go on, runt," he whispered vilely. "Meet your Maker." The woman grabbed the front of Harry's shirt and tugged him out of the car, depositing him roughly on his head onto the hard pavement. Hedwig screeched her defiance.

"Oh wook, it's wittle Hawwy," taunted Bellatrix Lestrange. "Come, take a ride with us Potter." Harry looked around blinking the blood out of his eyes. His head was bleeding rather freely and Hedwig was chirping, annoyed at Harry for bleeding on her. Five black-robed Death Eaters surrounded him, each with a wand at the ready. One turned his attention away from the center of the group, back to Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and Dudley. He comprehended each in turn, scrutinizing. "You, boy," Malfoy said, indicating Dudley. "Unload all of Potter's things and hand them over to us." Dudley, too scared to protest, scrambled out of the car to get Harry's things from the trunk. After everything was unloaded, Dudley, sweating from the exertion, dragged himself back into the car.

"What about the amount that we agreed upon?" Uncle Vernon asked, still scared, but emboldened by the prospect of being cheated.

"Nott, give him the money," Malfoy ordered as he turned his attention back to Harry. The man directly behind Harry separated from the group carrying a large suitcase. He stepped up to the window, unlocked the suitcase and displayed the contents to Harry's treacherous family.

"50,000 pounds, as agreed upon," Nott stated. "You can take it and leave. You have our gratitude and, more importantly, that of the Dark Lord's for your assistance."

Uncle Vernon snatched the suitcase, threw it into the back and floored the acceleration, pealing out the tires, rolling the window up as he drove recklessly away.

Harry stood up to face his abductors. He would _not_ cower on the ground in front of them. He would face death like a man, like his father had. He had even already begun to formulate a rough plan of action to delay that death. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wand, holding it at the ready. He tucked Hedwig's cage under his left arm. She shrieked at him, indignant at being held sideways._ Sorry Hedwig,_ he thought,_ but I can't just set you down. I'm going to need you in a few minutes._ As if she understood, she calmed.

"You might want to hand that bird over to us, Potter," Bellatrix Lestrange spat at him. "She needs to go to the Dark Lord, just like the rest of this filth." Hedwig shrieked a challenge at her. "Quiet, you stupid bird," Lestrange taunted back. The snowy owl screamed louder still. Harry tightened his grip on his beloved owl. Malfoy stepped closer to Harry. "Come, come now, Potter. You know better than to defy us alone. The only reason you escaped us two months ago was because your friends delayed us and then that fool Dumbledore came to your rescue. You will not be so lucky this time." And with that, he raised his wand to level with Harry's chest and stated, _"Imperio."_

Harry felt the carefree sensation once again. He was happier than he had been in a long time. He could almost feel all his grief and feelings slipping away from him, leaking out of his mind. He couldn't care less that these evil people were going to kill him. His world was perfect.

_Very good, Potter._ Was that Malfoy's voice in his head? Oh well._ Now, let's start with something simple. Give me your owl and your wand._

_I don't want to,_ Harry thought.

_Give me your owl and your wand, Potter._

_Is he actually _ordering_ me?_

_Give them to me!_

"Screw you, no!" said Harry firmly, breaking off the Imperious Curse and throwing it back at Malfoy with such force that the man staggered backwards.

"How –" he asked, shocked.

"You can thank your friend Crouch for that," Harry stated laughingly at him. "When he impersonated Moody he taught me how to throw off the Imperious Curse. I'm a little rusty; otherwise I wouldn't have even let you get a hold on me."

"You dare be impudent, boy?" a man that Harry somehow automatically knew was Avery asked incredulously.

"Yeah, sure," Harry stated. He was building up for a getaway.

"I'll teach you to show manners to your betters," Avery yelled bringing his wand up to bear. But Harry was ready for this outburst.

"_Expelliarmus!"_ Harry yelled at Nott. He then ran forward, bowling over the surprised wandless man. Harry even managed to catch his wand as it came down. Avery's _crucio _flew through the place where Harry had been and straight into the chest of Bellatrix Lestrange. As Harry ran as fast as he could across the busy street, weaving in and out of cars, he could hear her tortured scream. He deliberately threw Nott's wand down into the path of an oncoming car. Harry didn't know how long he ran or where he ended up, but when he finally collapsed onto the ground he was somewhere in a dirty alley between two small buildings. His legs had gone to jelly and his lungs screamed their protest at him. He very carefully undid the lock on Hedwig's cage and let her out. She hooted concernedly at him and checked him over. Harry couldn't help but smile and think of a mother checking over her child. He noticed that he had bled on her quite a bit and felt very regretful for it. She then screeched angrily in the direction from which they had retreated.

"Shh, Hedwig. They're probably trying to find us," Harry whispered to her through labored breaths. "Now listen to me. Fly to Hogwarts and let Professor Dumbledore, or McGonagall, or whoever finds you know that I'm in trouble. I don't have parchment or quill or anything to write a letter with so you'll have to figure out a way to tell them. Got it?" She chirped at him. "Good. Be careful, 'k?" She chirped again. Harry gave her a brief hug and sent her off on her way.

There were four small pops around him and he suddenly found himself surrounded by Death Eaters once again. "Give it up Potter. You can't hide from us," said a vexed Malfoy.

"Look, the cage is empty," snarled Avery. "He must've sent that owl for help."

"Dolohov, you go after it," snapped Malfoy and there was another pop behind Harry as Dolohov apparated after Hedwig. "I've had quite enough of you Potter. If I weren't under orders to bring you back alive, I'd take the pleasure of killing you right now. First though, let's get rid of that annoying wand of yours. _Expelliarmus!"_

"_Protego,"_ Harry gasped, deflecting the spell. Malfoy stiffened.

"_Accio wand!"_ he bellowed.

"_Protego!"_ Harry shouted back just managing to hold onto his wand enough to say the spell before it slipped from his hands. He fought for a grip on the wand but it had slid out to the tip and then it clattered to the cracked cement.

"_Crucio!"_ Malfoy yelled triumphantly. Harry felt the invisible daggers piercing his skin. The pain was unbearable. Harry couldn't hold his voice back any longer. With a scream of pain, he fell to the ground and continued to scream. He only grew louder when the remaining two Death Eaters joined in. His only pleading thought was that someone would hear his cries.

His insides convulsed and clenched. He couldn't take it any longer. _Just let it end. Let it end. _He didn't realize it when he began to cry blood. The pain was too searing for him to comprehend anything else. And then he blacked out.

Now he was in this complete darkness and his scar began to throb more and more. He cried out in surprise when _something_ touched his hand. Then another something, and many others. There were faint squeaks of rats all around him and the light ticking of the legs and feet of many, _many_ insects and arachnids. His scar was burning by the time a door opened to reveal a slanted rectangle of blindingly white light with the shadowy outline of an incredibly tall, incredibly thin man.

"Hello, Harry," came the high pitched, cold, evil voice of Harry's lifetime enemy Voldemort.

AN Okay, so I'm sorry if it's a little confusing when it switches perspectives. On my copy, I have asterisks, but it doesn't show up on the site. I'm really sorry, but I don't know how to fix it. I'm not that smart.

Ummm . . . so I had a bit of trouble with this chapter, as far as things adding up. I had to go back and fix it, but it is entirely possible that I missed something. If I did, _please_ let me know. I don't want to look even more like an idiot than I already do. 

I should also probably warn you that this is un-betaed, so all mistakes are mine and mine alone. Don't go blaming somebody else.


	3. Lost Hope

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Harry Potter. However, if I did, I would have enough money to purchase the Keebler Elves as slaves … _What?_! I like their hats. And their shoes are just so darn cute!

AN WARNING Okay, I feel that I should warn you all. This is the chapter when all of the torture starts. I should also say that it is because of these chapters that my friends think me rather sadistic. If you don't like my writings in this chapter, that's fine. In retrospect, they are a little … um… _out_ _there_, shall we say? If this just rubs you the wrong way, I might advise you to stop reading, since it goes on for a few chapters.

**CHAPTER THREE**

**Lost Hope**

Harry couldn't help but be defiant. "Hey, Tom," he said conversationally. Harry knew that Voldemort still hated the name that he had been given at his birth. He despised the name of his Muggle father, Tom Riddle, of which he had been the next recipient.

"Now Harry," Voldemort chided. "It is rude in my opinion to call someone by a name that is not preferred to them."

"First of all, you're one to talk. Secondly, I prefer this one," Harry confided. "It suits you just fine. It shows people that you're not all that powerful after all. That you're just a man. A man who's insanely power-hungry, to be sure, but a man nonetheless. No matter what you do to yourself, Tom Marvolo Riddle, you're still a man, and therefore can be hurt, triumphed over, and killed. Third, I don't think your opinion counts for much in anyone's eyes." Harry knew that he was making Voldemort angry but he didn't care. Let the world know that Harry James Potter went down challenging the mighty Lord Voldemort's mightiness. It fit, in Harry's mind.

"You can taunt me all you want, Potter. It won't work. I can be baited, insulted, annoyed, the whole shebang. It won't affect me. I'll just raise my wand. It'll be awhile before we reach the point of _Avada_ _Kedavra,_ but we can amuse ourselves with other curses in the meantime. We'll have _fun_ together, you and I. Who knows, I might even give you the redeeming chance to join my Death Eaters. If you're good and tell me what I need to know." He stepped out of the doorway and at least ten other shadows appeared in his place.

He was picked up roughly under his armpits by a bulky man and carried out of the room. Harry couldn't have fought the man physically if he had tried to. The combined efforts of three powerful Crustacious Curses had taken the desired effect on his body. He couldn't move very much of his body by his own free will and that that he could _hurt. _

They entered a vast dome room that was relatively empty. The only adornments to the room were a table, some dim, flickering lamps, and a cart with foreboding looking instruments scattered across it.

"Now Harry, you have a great honor today," Voldemort said, with his hands clasped behind his back. "You are going to be interrogated and tortured by none other than myself. It is very rare that I take the time to come torment my victims personally. I am much too busy to take time for every meager witch or wizard who has the chance to enjoy my company. This should give you a hint as to how important you are." He motioned for the Death Eater holding Harry to place him upon the table, which the man did very roughly. The man then muttered, _"Petrificus totalus,"_ under his breath in a slurred speech.

"You know Harry," Voldemort said, "Muggles aren't all that useless after all. Your dear mudblood mother brought you into this wretched world and then sacrificed herself to give you another few years in this dreadful place. My father now, he was my sire and I would not be here if it were not for him and then he sacrificed himself to give _me_ more time, unwilling though it was. It seems as if we've had this conversation before. Well, forgive me if I prattle on while I commence with your torture, but I feel I should explain this to you, so that you know exactly what I want and how far I am willing to go with your life to achieve that end."

As Voldemort said this, Harry muttered quietly, "Your mother should have drowned you when you were born."

Voldemort hissed slightly, in what Harry imagined was meant to be a chuckle. "Whoever said she didn't? Consider me Achilles, Harry. My mother dipped me into the River Styx and now I am invincible. Unlike the Greek hero however, I have no heel for you to aim for."

The cart was brought over. "Now, once again Harry, Muggles have come up with extremely effective ways of torture. See this here?" He held up a pair of pliers. "This can be used very efficiently in pulling teeth." As Harry shivered, he replaced the implement and grabbed a blowtorch. "This can also cause extreme pain when held close to the skin. Need I go on, Harry?" With a single look at the remaining tools, Harry shut his eyes tight and quivered in fear.

"Of course _you_ are the one who decides what method I will use. In fact we need not use any at all. All you have to do is tell me what the prophecy contained. That is our first order of business." He turned around so that his back was to Harry. "Now tell me, what did Albus Dumbledore tell you the prophecy contained."

Harry glanced at the cart. The instruments looked menacing. He looked at the tall, skinny form of Voldemort. It looked equally evil. "Harry, you _will_ tell me. Better to get it over with now and suffer no pain or hurt than to wait until the end." Harry felt fear rising up in him. _I should tell,_ he thought. _Would anyone blame me for it? Of course you idiot! _Another voice screamed at him. Harry felt like the angel and devil on his shoulders were arguing. _It's Voldemort! The one that the entire wizarding world is trying to bring down! Of course they'll blame you. Wouldn't you? Didn't Sirius say that it would be better to die instead of betraying friends?_ The angel won the war in Harry's mind and Harry glued his mouth shut.

"_Harry,"_ Voldemort said menacingly. Harry didn't reply. Voldemort sighed and nodded curtly to a place that Harry couldn't see.

A man then walked up to Harry and muttered, _"Silencio."_ Harry could feel a hand of steel grip his throat and then squash his voice box. He tried to yell insults to the Death Eaters and Voldemort, but no sound left his lips. They laughed cruelly at his futile efforts to have his voice be heard.

"_Crucio!" _ Voldemort yelled. Harry's screams went unheard.

"And now John with a story of disappearance in London. John?"

"Thank you Paul. Well, the story just came in. A customer who was dining in Eddie's Eatery called the police around half-past eleven yesterday. She said that she had heard horrible screams coming from alley in between the diner and Dorothy's Rentals. The police rushed to the scene. When they got there, all they found was a small pool of blood and an empty birdcage. Of course, they're looking into it but we are unable to uncover any further details. Back to you Paul."

The television was clicked off. Albus Dumbledore walked quietly up to the frightened looking Dursley household. "Is this story concerning Harry?" he asked quietly. They trembled when his gaze passed over each of them but no one answered. "If you do not wish to cooperate with me, I have the means to force you to do so." The three recognized the threat but still were too petrified with fear to answer. Albus sighed. "Very well, you leave me no choice. Mrs. Dursley, if you would come here please?" Too afraid of what this strange and frightening man would do if she disobeyed him, the woman rose and stumbled over. She collapsed into a chair that Albus had magicked over. From his robes he produced a vial of clear liquid and pulled the cork stopper out with a squelching pop. "Open your mouth please." The woman kept her mouth clamped shut, afraid that he would poison her. "I assure that no harm will come to you if you drink this. All this will do is make you tell me the truth." Her eyes flew open wide and she kept her mouth closed tighter than ever. Albus sighed again. "Very well," he repeated. He replaced the stopper and it vanished into his robes again to be replaced with a wand. If it were at all possible, Petunia Dursley's eyes grew even wider. _"Veritas,"_ he murmured with the wand pointed between her eyes. He knew that the spell he had just performed was illegal, but if he could find information on Harry, it was worth it. She suddenly went limp in her chair.

"What did you do to my _wife,"_ Vernon Dursley exploded at the same time that his rather large son yelled, "Mum!"

In response, Albus Dumbledore held up a hand and looked straight into Petunia Dursley's unfocused eyes.

"_Enervate,"_ he muttered and her eyes snapped back to look at his piercing blue ones. "Did that story concern Harry?" he asked again, much more quietly.

"I don't know," the woman replied automatically then was shocked that she had answered.

"Explain, please."

"On the boy's birthday we received a telephone call," she began and it looked like she was trying to stop herself from speaking and failing. "It was a stranger. They told us that they would pay us 50,000 pounds if we handed him over. I didn't really want to, but Vernon did so we agreed. He told us that on the day we took him to King's Cross to drop him off so he could go to that freak school we would park in the back of the lot.

"So we went and did what the man said. When we got there, five people in black coats and strange masks on came up beside the car. They yanked him out and took all his things, gave us our money and we drove away." She looked shocked that she had revealed so much.

"Did they say anything to you before you drove away?" Albus asked.

"Yes. They said something like we have their gratitude and, more importantly, that of the Dark Lord's." Tears were spilling down the woman's bony face now. "I don't know if he managed to get away but it could be him in that story as easily as not."

Albus's face sagged and his eyes temporarily lost their twinkle behind the half-moon spectacles. "Ah. So it was indeed Voldemort after all. I suppose that I was clinging to a lost hope, to think that Harry was just kidnapped by someone less dangerous." The twinkle regained its place in his eye, but it was a deadly sparkling of malice and something very close to hatred and loathing. It was more like a spark igniting a furnace of long-buried and white-hot abhorrence. He shot a death glare at Petunia Dursley, directing his dangerous twinkle toward the frightened woman. "Why did you do that to Harry?" His voice held such contemptuous coldness that it could have frozen fire. "You sealed the charm of protection on Harry fifteen long years ago and you choose _now,_ the worst time yet, to let its wards fall? By breaking the charm now, you have put not only Harry in grave danger, but also the world at large. If any blame should be placed on the carnage that is yet to come it shall fall on you! If that doesn't break through your barriers of self-love, then you should know that you shall suffer as well! I certainly hope that this aspect of the recent happenings appeals to your closed-minded stupidity, seeing as how you hold no value of the human life. You regard only yourselves as important enough to save from the oncoming storm. When Harry is rescued – NO!" Up until this point Albus had spoken in a deadly quiet whisper, making it even more horrible to watch as the room seemed to grow dark with a heavy shadow of foreboding and menace that was radiating from him in waves. Now the tension broke with a roar that one would have thought impossible from a man of his years. "Don't even dare to speak to me, woman!" he bellowed when Petunia Dursley dared to open her mouth for a quiet yet defiant protest. Her mouth quickly snapped shut and then sagged as she came very close to fainting from fright. "Harry will either be rescued by the members of the Order of the Phoenix or the aurors in the Ministry of Magic or he will come back on his own! Do not dare to speak one word of how your nephew will not be coming back, because he will." By now Albus had regained some of his composure but his eyes still glittered with a dead glint fed only by his hatred and disgust for this pathetic household. "Do you really think that giving Voldemort his enemy will buy you safety from his coming onslaught of bloodshed, war, rivalry, and purity? It's like Hitler all over again. The Dark Lord will only retake your newly acquired amount of money and it will be recovered from the _ashes_ of your burnt bodies. Or perhaps it will be from you _broken_ bodies; or maybe the _pieces_ of your bodies. There is no limit to Voldemort's cruelty. You have gained merely a temporary indulgence. Secondly, as you have no doubt discovered if you have any sense, you are in danger of me. You will all be extremely lucky if I leave here and every one of you hasn't been cursed for life. And lastly, you are in danger of Harry when he comes back. I have absolutely no doubt that my anger with you now will be only a mere shade compared to his. I would be surprised, and frankly, very disappointed, if your house was still standing when he is through with you. You would have been much better off and much safer cooperating with the side of Light." Albus left the next few moments in silence, letting these realities sink in. He took also took this time to regain the rest of his lost composure. He took a deep, steadying breath. "Well now, if there's nothing else that you can tell me of where Harry is, I'll proceed with your curses."

A livid Voldemort stormed into the giant dome room just in time to postpone Harry's first session with the whip. He walked straight up to Harry and grabbed him by the throat, giving him a violent shake. Harry's feet slipped and skidded along the ground, barely touching.

"Your disappearance has caused quite a ruckus, Potter," he hissed menacingly. "That much was to be expected. If the whereabouts of the Boy Who Lived goes unknown for even a moment's time the world goes into a panic. Oh but no, Harry Potter couldn't leave without a little hint as to what happened to him." The grip on Harry's throat tightened, making him gag. "Little Harry had to send his owl off to Dumbledore and had to cry a pool of bloodied tears. Now both worlds are after you! The Muggles are searching for the missing Harry James Potter, whose relatives persist that he ran away. And the wizarding world is searching for the captured Harry James Potter, the boy who merely got lucky against the Dark Lord five times. You are doubly a nuisance, Potter!" Just as Harry thought he would pass out from lack of oxygen, Voldemort threw him down in disgust, punctuating his exclamation. "Just had to make things a bit more difficult for me, didn't you boy? Couldn't help being defiant then, was it? Aghh, no matter I suppose. We'll take care of it easily enough." He directed his evil red gaze to the Death Eater with the whip coiled in his hand. "Give him extra for good measure. I want to be able to hear his screams clearly in my quarters. And when you're done with that, pull out his right back molar on the top and bring it to me along with his glasses." He walked away, smiling viciously as Harry's ear-splitting shrieks followed him out.

"Professor?" Ron knocked lightly on the door to Professor Dumbledore's office.

"Yes, Mr. Weasley. Please, come in," Dumbledore said, discarding a sheet of parchment with a sigh. "What can I do for you?" he asked when Ron was seated.

"Erm… well, Professor Dumbledore, I was wondering – er, I guess that it was _Hermione_ and I that were wondering if, er, well, the Christmas holidays are coming up, sir, and –" Ron stopped, flustered. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Professor, we'd like to come with you over the holidays, to search for Harry. Before you can say no, I already owled my parents and they said it was fine because they were planning on going too. Hermione's parents said it was okay if she was with my folks. Please, Professor, we want to help. We really, _really_ want to find Harry."

"I can understand your desire to find Harry, Ron, but this is work for adults who are experienced in capturing people like those who did this to Harry and defending themselves against the Dark Arts."

"But Professor," Ron protested, "Harry was the best in the school at Defense Against the Dark Arts and he taught everyone in the school, except the Slytherins. He spent the most time with us. Hermione's the second best in the entire school. Hermione helped me out a lot and ever since Harry disappeared. We've been cursing each other in the library and everything. And we've been with Harry each time that Voldemort's come after him at school. We _really_ want to come."

Dumbledore thought about it and then sighed resignedly. "Very well. I have a soft heart. But you each must stay with Nymphadora Tonks, Alastor Moody, Kingsley Shaklebolt, another auror that is part of the Order of the Phoenix, your parents, or myself at all times. Inform yours and Miss Granger's parents that you will be accompanying us on our endeavor to search for Mr. Potter."

Dumbledore was rewarded with a large smile on Ron's face that split his face in two from ear to ear. He ran out of the study to inform his friend and both of their families of their success.

Ron stumbled along beside Tonks, tripping over the jagged rocks. The terrain they were traveling was rough. But Ron kept up with his escort, determined to not show any signs of tiredness. They had gotten a lead on Harry late the night before.

"Look!" Tonks cried. Everyone looked over to where she indicated, a hand over her mouth. There was a clump of black clothing tucked precariously under a rock that was partially hidden by some sagebrush and tumbleweed.

Ron and Hermione both shot as one towards the clothing, both not paying any mind to the calls of their superiors behind them. They both ran on, unheeding even to the crags in the rocks that caught their feet making them stumble forward. Ron's long legs delivered him to the clothes first. He kneeled and reached under the rock. Grasping the heated black cloth in his hand, he pulled it out from under the rock. His hands froze and his eyes grew wide and his face pale.

"Ronald Weasley!" his mother screeched at him. "I am absolutely appalled! How dare you run away from us after specific and strict instructions from everyone here not to do so…" Her voice lost its intensity and faded as she saw the look of horror on both her son's face and Hermione's after the girl had joined him. She shrieked and backed away as she saw the reason.

"Molly?" Dumbledore asked, surprised by her sudden outburst. He walked up and everyone joined in the terrible gawking when color drained from Dumbledore's face. In front of Ron was a broken skeleton, charred black from extreme fires. It was in black robes with a tattered Hogwarts sign on the front left breast. Below that was the lion of the Gryffindor House. Still clinging to the black skull was a couple strands of jet-black hair. There were several broken teeth still smiling up at him. In the back, on the top right, a molar was the only whole tooth.

Molly Weasley and Tonks came up to guide the two stunned children away from the broken remains of Harry Potter's likely body.

_**One year later**_

"Harry, I have a bit of a surprise for you today," Voldemort whispered venomously in Harry's ear. Harry's scar burned from Voldemort's close proximity to his person, but it was more from the sheer delight that the Dark Lord was experiencing. It was an awful feeling. Mingling with the feeling he was already experiencing all over his body, it was almost enough to cause him sickness. Having a blowtorch held to tender body areas, like feet, ears and palms was _worlds_ more than unpleasant.

"It is official, Harry. All of your past comrades have given up on you ever coming back. Even that fool Dumbledore and your loyal schoolmate friends, Weasley and Granger. For a while, they refused to believe that the skeleton we planted was actually yours. Did you know, Harry, that when a body is burned so severely as that traitor's was, it can only be identified by the pulp in the teeth? And we made certain that the only wholly intact tooth was the one we extracted from you, a year back. Smart children, they are, Harry. They knew, for some time at least, that you were not dead. They didn't believe that Voldemort could kill their friend after he had defied him so many times. Well, I haven't killed you _yet_, Harry. But be sure, child, that it's coming.

"Now, that was only the first part of your big surprise today," Voldemort continued on cheerfully. "Bring them in, Dolohov," he commanded a near Death Eater. "I trust that you are familiar with dementors, Harry? Were they not placed as a bleak guard over Hogwarts in your third year, when you discovered you had a godfather." His long, nimble fingers ran threw Harry's untidy black hair in a rough caress. "My, my boy. It's almost time for a cut, isn't it? You," he addressed another Death Eater. "Go fetch me the sharpest knife that you can find in this accursed place. Now Harry, back to your past friends. They've come for a little visit. My, how they've missed you so. I took the liberty of requesting them stay with us. Ah. Here's the knife. Let's test the sharpness shall we?" He deftly sliced open both of Harry's wrists and made a long, shallow gash in Harry's throat. While Harry gasped and moaned, Voldemort cocked his head, as if he heard something. "They're here Harry," he whispered so quietly that Harry himself could barely hear him. "No wand to help you now, Potter," he hissed into Harry's ear as Harry began to slip into the murky fog, listening to the faint screaming that was becoming louder and louder to his ears alone. "Do say hello to your mother for me. She was ever so pretty." Before Harry could lash out at his enemy, he became lost in the abyss, accompanied only by his repressed memory of his mother's frantic dieing wish.

_**Three years later**_

Voldemort deposited the bloody molar inside a glass jar. "Come, come, now Harry. There's no reason for any more of this. All you have to do is tell me what the prophecy said. Save yourself any more pain. I can reattach this tooth and make all of this pain go away. Why worry about those stupid, uncaring Muggles and your friends who have abandoned you? Only you matter now. What did it say?"

Harry moaned, working his tongue. Voldemort nodded to the Death Eater who held Harry's mouth open. Harry's head fell forward in exhaustion and a trail of blood leaked out of his mouth.

"I'll tell you," Harry moaned between painful sobs. "Write this down. It said: R… E… S… I… W… E… H… T… Y… D… O… B… O… N… H… T… I… W… D…L… R…O… W… R… E… D… N… U… E… H… T… O… T… T… I… G… N… I… K… A… T… L… L… I… T… S… M… E… H… P… O… R… T… S… O… P… A… I… A… M… M… O… C… E… M…O… T… O… D… U… O… Y… T… A… H… W… R… E… T… T… A… M… O… N… D… O… I… R… E… P… E… M… H… T… I… W… E… V… A… R… G… E… H… T… O… T… G… N… I… O… G… S… E… H… P… O… R… T… S… O… P… A… T… I… D… O… I… R… E… P… S… T… N… E… T… N… O… C… S… T… I… O… U… Y… L… L… E… T… R… E… V… E… I… F… I…D… E… N… M… E… D… N… O… C… E… B… I… Y… A… M… D… N… A… T… I… F… O… E… S… U… A… C… E… B… D… E… I… D… S… U… I… R… I… S… D… O… I… R… E… P… T… I… E… V… O… H… S… D… N… A… Y… C… E… H… P… O… R… P… S… U… O… I… C… E… R… P… R… U… O… Y… E… K… A… T… D… O… I… R… E… P… E… M… E… T… I… B…"

"Very good Harry. I do not blame you for speaking it in riddles as a last defiance. We will have no trouble decoding it. But just to show you that I am not usually tolerant of beatings around the bush… _Crucio." _

Harry hardly felt the curse or even heard his screams. His satisfaction was too great. He'd have a break for a while and Voldemort was once again thwarted. _Bite me. Take your precious prophecy and shove it. Sirius died because of it and may I be condemned if I ever tell you its contents. It's going to the grave with me. No matter what you do to me, I'm still taking it to the underworld with nobody the wiser._ Harry had had a lot of free time over the past (_how long has it been now? Two or three years? Or maybe longer?_) past while and had memorized the spelling of his quip inside and out, forwards and backwards. Harry knew that when Voldemort finally puzzled his way threw it he would probably be _crucioed _another countless amount of times, beaten, whipped, have more teeth pulled, be burned more with the blow torch, have his wrists slit, and a whole bunch of other things. While Harry couldn't exactly ignore it, he'd grown accustomed to these daily rituals. Or at least as accustomed as one could become to torture. But he'd still get a kick out of Voldemort's fiery reaction.

"Whadaya mean he's back?"

"I mean that he's back, sir."

"Thought he was dead!"

"He _is_ dead!"

"He _was_ dead! But he's back."

"Was he ever guilty?"

"No."

"According to whom?"

"Dumbledore."

"Dumbledore! Ha! The man's losing his touch! Wouldn't be able to tell if You-Know-Who walked right into his office yelling the killing curse every-which-way!"

"I'm telling you, he's back. He's at Hogwarts right now. Got the owl only a scant ten minutes ago."

"Ha! I'll believe it when I see it!"

"Believe it Cornelius," Albus Dumbledore walked into the Ministry of Magic to witness Cornelius Fudge heatedly arguing with two of his staff. "He's back."

"He's in here, Cornelius," Albus said indicating the door to the hospital wing. He knew very well that the Minister of Magic had been in the hospital wing many, many times just for Harry Potter alone. Recalling Harry, Albus sighed. The boy was always a sad, painful memory.

Cornelius barged in through the door. "BLACK!"

"What's the matter, Fudge? Disappointed to see me alive?" Sirius Black answered Cornelius's outraged call huskily. "Although I suppose I shouldn't throw stones when I wish the same to you."

Cornelius spluttered. "What are you doing here? You _died_ four years ago! I granted you clemency. The world doesn't care if a _dead_ man is pardoned. You can't come back! It's almost time for the campaign! You coming back will ruin everything and obliterate my ratings! Your –" He didn't get any farther.

"GOOD!" roared Sirius. "The entire community of witches and wizards had been falling apart ever since you became the Minister! You can't really seem to handle the slightest problem, so the world's been in shambles ever since Voldemort came back!" Albus noticed that Cornelius went white from the accusations and then shuddered when Sirius spoke Tom Marvolo Riddle's chosen name.

"I'll answer all your questions later Fudge," Sirius said curtly. "Right now, I want to see Harry."

The room went a deathly quiet as both Headmaster and Minister shifted uneasily in front of the man.

"Sirius," Albus began, "there is no easy way to tell you this. Harry's –" He stopped to swallow. "Harry's – well – dead." Both men could only feel compassion for the godfather when they saw a look like all hope had faded from the man's world.

AN So, as far as the torture, if you're this far, I'll assume that you didn't think it too abominable. I'll fill you in on my secrets. Most of my torture ideas came from the TV show Alias, with Jennifer Garner. I even got the stuff about the body from it. So if I'm wrong, I suppose that I could sue them for false advertising. HA! Yeah, and they use stuff like pulling teeth, blow torches, you know, stuff like that too. My friend "Twitchet" likes to tease me about how all of you would react to the torture scenes. Either you would think that I was a horribly sick person with problems beyond imagining, or you would love it and worship my story. Well, you decide.

Um … so one of my friends pointed out to me that the names of the TV people were all important people in the Bible. Uh yeah, not intentional. I just typed the first simple names that came to mind. Hehe.

So, if you read my bio, I gave you a little preview to this chapter in my allusion to Dumbledore's _"dangerous twinkle."_ When I wrote it, I really tried to make it sound good. I _really, really_ did. But, looking back on it, it sounds stupid to the point of being hilarious! I mean come on! _DANGEROUS_ twinkle! The first thing that pops into my head is "DANGER, DANGER, WILL ROBINSON!" Who's with me?

Please tell me if the part about finding the planted body adds up. Sometimes, I just get so caught up in the dramatic irony that I get kinda inconsistent. By the way, I love irony so much! If I get a little carried away with it, I'm sorry, but I just can't help it. I just laugh my head off when I read stories with it, even if it's something horrible like those two guys breaking the feud between their two families just before they get eaten by wolves in that story by Saki. So awesome!

Yeah, anyways … Harry's little quip. So stupid. No further comment. That's all I'm gonna say. And really, I must have made Voldemort stubborn, and not to mention stupid, beyond all reason. I mean, seriously! He goes _how_ long, still asking Harry the _same question?_ And you know what the worst thing is? I don't realize it, and he's _still_ asking about the prophecy when Harry escapes. snort _Rrrrrriiiiiiiiight._

Soooooo, … do you like my little cliffie? I'll give you fair warning now, I absolutely adore writing them. I like having you guys suffer. scratches chin and ponders You know, maybe I _am_ sadistic. And I feel I should let you know, I wasn't planning on doing this until tomorrow, so you should all feel 'warm and fuzzy inside.'

And just for you, "Rezallia": "'Mr. Potty wasn't on the train?'" _CEREBELLUM!_


	4. Grave Dangers

**Disclaimer:** If I owned Harry Potter I wouldn't have named Snape … well, Snape. I feel the slightest amount of pity for him. It's just a little too close to snap. snaps fingers maniacal laughter Yes, well, I don't own Harry Potter. Have a chapter.

**Chapter Four**

**Grave Dangers**

"Sirius?" Hermione said the next afternoon as she lightly knocked on the man's door and then pushed it slightly open. Dumbledore had arranged for him to stay in a room at the Leaky Cauldron until different accommodations could be provided.

"Hermione?" Sirius looked up at the door hopefully. "Is that really you?" Sirius saw his godson's friend and began to wonder if what he had been told the previous day, what he had cried himself to sleep over, what he had had nightmares of, had been a lie, a prank, or even a horrible dream.

"Uh-huh. How are you?" Hermione looked nervous. She was kneading the material of her coat, wringing her hands, and flexing her fingers in turn. Sirius's climbing hopes came to a crashing stop.

"How long?" he rasped as she made to sit on one of the two chairs in the room. She froze as he asked.

"What?"

"Hermione! You know what I mean!" Sirius cried in anguish, trying to hold back the tears. "How long – has Harry been dead?"

"Oh, Sirius," Hermione moaned as she collapsed in a heap onto the chair, her face hidden in her hands. "Four years," she sobbed.

"What?" Sirius said in stunned reverence.

"He's been gone for four and ½ years," Hermione whispered as she lowered her hands to reveal her red swollen eyes and blotchy cheeks.

Sirius could feel the tears welling up and spilling over, but didn't try to check them. "How?" he asked quietly averting his eyes from her gaze of empathetic pity.

"At the beginning of our sixth year Harry didn't show up on the train to Hogwarts. Before that, he hadn't shown up at Diagon Alley when we invited him to come get supplies with us, either. We got a letter from him saying that he had already been there and that he'd see us on the train. I think that it was a fake and I think that Dumbledore and Ron and the others agree with me. Anyway, he didn't show up on the train and he wasn't at the feast either. McGonagall called us to her office to ask if we knew where he was. We gave her the letter that said that he'd be on the train and that if the Dursley's caught him sending owls, they wouldn't let him come. We thought that he might just be there, waiting for someone to come get him and bring him to Hogwarts. The next morning he still wasn't back. There was apparently a story all over the Muggle news about a customer at some diner in London calling the police about screams heard in the alley between it and another building. When the police got there, they found an empty birdcage and a puddle of blood. Ron and I didn't know about that story for a while. The same day, after breakfast Dumbledore and McGonagall took us up to the Headmaster's chambers. Hedwig was there, but she was covered in blood and a lot of it wasn't even hers. I knew that something bad had happened to Harry then. I knew it, and I think that Ron did too, by the way we both walked around the rest of the day and a while afterwards too.

"Dumbledore himself went to the Dursley's to find out if they knew where Harry was. I don't know how he did it, or what he did to them, but he found out. That story _was_ about Harry; the Muggle blood tests confirmed that with the blood. They told him that on Harry's birthday they got a call from a man, probably a Death Eater, and he told them to take Harry to King's Cross and take him to the back of the parking lot and give them to five people wearing long black coats and masks. The Dursley's did it. They did it and may they be condemned for it!" Hermione spat vehemently.

"Voldemort gave them 50,000 pounds for it. Dumbledore cursed each one of them. It's actually rather humorous, in a grim, malicious sort of way. He told Petunia that for every pence of the money that the household spent she would get one more wrinkle on her face, another gray hair would appear, and a quarter-hour of her life would vanish. And that pig cousin of his." She laughed ruthlessly, a cruel gleam in her eyes. "For every pound he gained he would experience the exact same harassment and beatings that he gave Harry, both waking and unconscious. And the cruel Uncle Vernon. Every time that so much as thought an ill word against Harry, he would relive all the pain that Harry had experienced during his death. I don't care if anyone calls it cruel and unusual punishment, I think that it's justice!" Hermione declared, her eyes still streaming. "It'll serve them right for what they did to Harry all his life!

"Before the Christmas holidays, Ron and I begged our families to let us go with Dumbledore and the aurors on a search for Harry. After a while they gave in, as long as we stayed with them, and Ron's family was going too. Then we asked Dumbledore. He was a bit easier to convince, but not much. Then at Christmas, we left with them and took off to some sort of desert terrain in the states. After about a week of searching we got a lead on Harry, and acted on it. Early the next morning, we left for the place where he had been sighted. Tonks saw something black sticking out from under a rock. Ron and I ran over to it. Ron got there first and pulled it out." Her voice broke and she buried her face again. "Oh Sirius! It was Harry's skeleton. It had some really ragged Hogwart's clothes on it and it was black. Voldemort burned him to death Sirius! His skeleton was pitch black and there was only one whole tooth left. Molly Weasley took Ron and me away while the others searched around. Under the rock, they found Harry's glasses, his wand, and a note. After a bit more searching, they found his trunk with all of his belongings." The note said: _'Here's your savior, Dumbledore.'_ in green ink.

Sirius stood up, startling Hermione. He just stared at the door with a dumbfounded look etched on his face. Sirius knew that he was in denial, not willing to accept all of this horrid information that had just been flooded upon him. He knew that he was in shock, but he didn't care and he didn't try to do anything to bring himself back to the present and reality. He was reliving in his mind everything that had happened with himself and his beloved godson. When Lily and James had told them that they were going to have a baby; when they had asked Sirius to be their child's godfather; when they had brought the new baby boy home; he remembered Harry's first birthday. And he remembered when he had had to hand Harry over to Hagrid that horrible Halloween night. He remembered knowing that he wouldn't be able to keep his promise to Lily and James of taking care of Harry and protecting him when Peter killed all those people and vanished into the sewer. Then, twelve years later, he recalled seeing a clone of James with Lily's eyes that night on Magnolia Crescent; he recalled seeing Harry playing Quidditch and recognizing that he was just as good a Seeker as his father had been. He remembered their reunion in the shrieking shack and when Harry had finally believed Sirius when he said that he would have died to save his parents. He remembered Harry's gallant rescue of _him,_ and all of the letters that they had exchanged over the two years previous to his disappearance and Harry's death. He recollected on when he had felt such passionate relief when the boy had emerged from the maze and the final test of the Triwizard Tournament, which turned to profound concern when he saw Harry's condition. He recalled his intense worry when he heard that Harry had gone to the Ministry of Magic of a rescue mission once again for _him._ He remembered falling through the black void beyond the veil and distantly hearing Harry's anguished cry for him and then a shout that vibrated through his whole being, a shout that spoke all of Harry's sorrow and hatred in just three words: "SHE KILLED SIRIUS!"

He didn't know how he had migrated over to the window or when, and he wasn't at all aware that Hermione had followed him and was now hovering worriedly by him. He only became aware of the world around him when three sincere words came unbidden to his lips. "Forgive me James."

_**Six Months Later**_

"What can I say about Harry?" Ron said gravely to the listening crowd, his eyes already glistening. It looked like almost the entire wizarding world had turned out for the funeral. "He was my best friend. The only person who ever came close was Hermione. Harry was the most courageous man I ever knew. Even though he never lived to reach that manhood, he was more of a man than so many in our society who claim that title. He never did anything for himself, really. In his first year at Hogwarts, at only eleven years old, he saved the entirety of the school, and possibly even the world, from the return of Lord Vol- well He-Who-Mus- Ah screw it! Harry had the will power to say it and the Dark Lord did more to him than to anyone else. Voldemort." A ripple of shudders passed through the entire audience when Ron spoke the name that no one dared. "In his second year," Ron continued on defiantly towards the crowd, as if speaking an ancient ballad, "he braved the Chamber of Secrets to save my little sister, Ginny, from the memory of V-V-Voldemort's sixteen-year-old self as Tom Marvolo Riddle. He faced a basilisk alone, with nothing but a sword, an old hat, and Fawks, the phoenix. In his third year, Harry had to face dementors that were sent to guard the school. The effect that the dementors had on him was worse than it could have ever been. Every time one got near him, he heard his father tell his mother to take Harry and run since V-Voldemort had found them. He heard his mother's last wish as she pleaded with V-Voldemort to kill her and spare Harry. The dementors almost succeeded in administering the Kiss on him while he tried to produce a corporeal Patronous powerful enough to ward off the dementors who were advancing on him, Hermione, his godfather Sirius, and me. He was forced to enter the Triwizard Tournament in his fourth year when a servant of his enemy placed his name in the Goblet of Fire in an attempt to deliver him into _Voldemort's_ hands. I was guilty of jealousy at this point. I thought that Harry had placed his name in the Goblet because he wanted more attention. The truth is Harry never wanted all the attention he got. He hated his scar and everyone's gawking because the only reason that he got all of it was because his parents and so many others had died and he hadn't. Still in his fourth year, he had to watch Cedric Diggory die and then witness the return of Voldemort. Then in his fifth and his final year at Hogwarts, he had to endure everyone calling him a liar about his testimony of V-Voldemort's return. Then he selflessly went to the Ministry to try to save his godfather, whom _Voldemort_ had tricked Harry into thinking was a captive. Then he had to watch as Sirius died, falling through the veil, never to return, at least in his lifetime. I don't care if everyone calls it Harry's need to 'play hero,' because it wasn't. Harry was just the kind of person who did things for others without thinking of himself. And that's what it was. If it had been anybody else, Harry would have gone after 'em just to rescue 'em, without another thought for himself or the publicity and popularity gained by the deed. And I say shame on anyone who thinks so.

"It's really a disgrace to Harry that it's been almost four years since his death and _now_ we're having the funeral. It's complete idiocy that the Ministry _confiscated_ his body – er, well, his _remains_ – and didn't let us honor Harry's memory for _this_ long. But now we can, and we will. I don't know about the rest of you lot, but I intend to honor the name of Harry James Potter for the rest of my life, since Harry can't do it for his." At this point Ron's voice broke into racking sobs that were previously checked. He tried to control it, but couldn't. He managed to swallow one down long enough to croak out a husky 'Thank you' and, with red eyes streaming, stepped off of the raised podium and into the crowd who made way for him. Hermione caught him as he stumbled up to her and bent his head to cry into her hair. She leaned into his chest and cried just as hard while they awkwardly tried to comfort each other. Neither paid much mind when one of their party left to venture up to the now vacated dais.

Ron vaguely became aware of the speaker as Albus Dumbledore said, "I had the pride, privilege, and pleasure of serving as Headmaster to Hogwarts during Harry's time there. He was a man of many virtues and talents. But he, like all of us, was only human. He had faults and flaws in his being, as do we all." The crowd began to murmur quietly as the Professor said this. Ron knew exactly what they were thinking, having similar thoughts himself as he raised his head in disbelieving protest. Was he going to give a eulogy for Harry that focused on his imperfections?

Dumbledore knew what was running threw his audience's minds and held up a hand to subdue them. "As previously mentioned in Mr. Ronald Weasley's speech in Harry's name, Mr. Potter usually only thought of the benefit of others. Most of his acts were done without thought to his own needs and wants. He selflessly braved the endeavor to protect the Sorcerer's Stone, boldly ventured into the bowels of the Hogwarts castle into the Chamber of Secrets to rescue a fellow student, endured the tortures the dementors faced him with, dueled bravely with Lord Voldemort upon his return to full power, and once again heedless to his own situations, strode purposefully into the Minsitry of Magic to rescue his only family left from the Dark Lord. It was a very rare occasion that Harry stopped to consider himself.

"Harry was a proud man. He would automatically defend the memory of anyone and also defend a friend for her or his benefit. He did not take insults to himself or anyone lightly, boldly and without delay speaking out. Even when the times were hard and the odds were against him, Harry always stayed beside those whom he valued.

"He was also conniving, resourceful, and quick-witted. He would use whatever means were given him to achieve his end. He would also strike up plans and bargains and instantly catch on to his surroundings and circumstances. Depending on the person, these can be dangerous attributes, but with Harry, they were a benefit to all around him. The only fault I can give to these qualities is that they are some of those that Lord Voldemort himself prizes." Another ripple spread throughout the on looking crowd of rapt listeners at the mention of the name.

"And now I will not hesitate to brag about Harry's virtues and talents, because I daresay he had enough of them to comment on. He was an exceptional pupil; average in some ways, but exceeding and leaving behind expectations in many, many others. In Harry's first year, he rose superbly to the challenges presented against him and he once again came to clash – much sooner than I could have ever anticipated – with Lord Voldemort. He not only prevailed in his struggle against the Dark Lord, but also deferred his return. In Harry's second year, Harry once again met confrontations that full-grown wizards had not triumphed over. He altruistically went into the Chamber of Secrets to save a dear companion. And then, as we entered Harry's third year at Hogwarts, Harry fought to resist the dementors and their horrendous effect upon him and so doing topped his year in Defense Against the Dark Arts. He reunited with his godfather Sirius and learned the truth about how and why his parents died and who was truly to blame. In his fourth year Harry exceeded all expectations by, not only _surviving_ the Triwizard Tournament, but also _winning, _even though he gives all credit to Cedric Diggory, who agreed to call the match a draw, split the winnings, and still claim a Hogwarts victory. Harry showed his true integrity after witnessing his fellow classmate's murder. In his fifth year, when the teacher for Defense Against the Dark Arts failed to provide any hands-on experiences, he set up a little club that met at various times to teach the students of Houses Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw the materials that they needed to know. He and his friends flatteringly dubbed it the D.A., or Dumbledore's Army. He had the valor and fortitude to travel to the Department of Mysteries in the Ministry of Magic to save a dear friend whom he had come to recognize as both father and brother. He also had to witness this man's – for lack of a better word – death – for you see him here before you. Harry also learned a gruesome, bitter truth that year which I will not impart for the fact that it was Harry's and Harry's alone to tell.

"And so you see that Harry – goodness, I can't believe that I must finally speak it after all this time – _was_ one of the best people that one could ever find, even if the entire world was searched. He may be gone from this world, but he is not gone from our minds and I for one know that he will, personally, always be an influence on my life. Thank you," Dumbledore finished, and he stepped down from the pedestal with bright, glistening eyes.

Sirius's eyes were overflowing with the tears that spoke his sorrow. He wanted to leave, to curl up in a corner and cry and sob and wail, unrestrained by the formalities and poise required in public. He wanted to disappear, to fall into the empty void of darkness that he had so recently escaped from. He wanted to return, to not feel anything, to join up with Harry once again in the afterlife. But he couldn't. He had fought so hard while in the boundary of life and death to come back to be with Harry, but it was all to no avail. Every ounce of energy that he had spent to return to life and his body had been wasted; they were worthless, meaningless items and specks of his foolish stalwartness. If he had only given up, Harry would have been there and he could be with him right now. He would not be feeling such a deep, penetrating anguish that seemed to engulf his entire body. He had never been so acutely aware of the weight of his heart and there seemed to be a deep, menacing blackness that threatened to devour him from within, which Sirius would have presently accepted with welcome. Anything would be better than the total despair he was experiencing.

There had been so many eulogies for Harry, and Sirius would have gladly shouted to the world the love that he felt for his godson, but if he so much as inched toward the momentarily vacated plinth, he would burst into fresh, enlivened tears of anguish and grief. Everyone who knew who he was who was close enough to see would look at him with such fresh, genuine pity that it would only hearten his tears into more activity and throw into an even sharper relief his raw, gaping wounds of agony and loss.

He now stood in front of the open gravesite, rubbing his already dripping hands across his soaked, gaunt face, only to have it replaced by the free flowing tears. He stared uncomprehending at the headstone, reading it over and over again, not really seeing the writing etched in stone that made it all definite. His eyes at long last linked with his brain:

_Here lies_

_**Harry James Potter**_

_The Boy Who Lived_

_July 31, 1990 – December 23, 2006 (?)_

_Murdered by the Dark Lord_

_Beloved friend, pupil, and godson_

_Always remembered in our lives, minds, and hearts_

_Rest In Peace_

Sirius continued to stare at the headstone, thinking that something about it wasn't right. What could it be? Hadn't Ron, Hermione, the Weasley family, Tonks, Moody, Remus, Shacklebolt, and Dumbledore gone over the appropriate wording and style and every detail with precision? What could possibly be wrong with it after all that deliberation? _Ah, yes, _Sirius realized after long last._ 'Dark Lord' should not be there. Harry called him by his chosen, grisly name._ _It should be Voldemort._ And so, even though metal and stone – especially marble – were extremely hard to channel magic through because of their unwieldy physical state, Sirius thrust his hand into a pocket and extracted his new 13" oak wand with Unicorn hair at its heart. Bringing it to bear at the gravestone, Sirius mumbled an incantation that he was sure he had never heard before and then rumbled, "Voldemort." There was a thundering boom that vibrated his very core and a sudden wind rose up from the ground to play havoc with his newly cut, shoulder length hair, making each lock and tress swirl around him in an intricate dance. And before his eyes, Sirius saw the engraved writing of 'Dark Lord' lift and fill itself in, becoming smooth and flawless with the rest of the uncut marble stone. Then, in the same curving script, 'Voldmort' etched itself in the erased writing's place. Sirius looked upon the marble with satisfaction.

_Here lies_

_Harry James Potter_

_The Boy Who Lived_

_July 31, 1990 – December 23, 2006 (?)_

_Murdered by Voldemort_

_Beloved friend, pupil, and godson_

_Always remembered in our lives, minds, and hearts_

_Rest In Peace _

_That's better,_ Sirius thought, eyes still streaming and his hair settling. _Harry would have wanted it like that._ He was startled out of his reverie when a beautiful snowy owl suddenly lighted on the peak of the marble headstone. "Hedwig," Sirius whispered as he took a small step forward to retrieve the bird from her grim perch. She screeched defiantly at him, halting his progress toward her. She then looked sorrowfully down at the coffin and gave a plaintive cry. She repeated her summons again and again, unfurling her wings more each time in earnest, commanding the hidden body below to rise and return to her. But there was no response. She lifted from her roost and glided softly down to rest on the coffin's edge. She piped and nibbled at the wood, trying to open it herself.

Seeing her futile effort of loyalty, Sirius felt his heart stir and flutter. Compassion rose up in Sirius when the bird pleadingly looked up at him, bidding him to help her rouse her beloved master. He walked up to the edge and bent down, holding out his forearm for her to hop onto. She looked doubtfully up at him and then her yellow gaze returned to the black coffin.

"Come on, Hedwig," Sirius whispered huskily. "He's gone where you can't follow." Hedwig gave a soft trill of dismay, rubbing her black speckled, white head on the polished surface. "Come on, Hedwig," Sirius repeated as one of his tears splattered on the glinting black exterior, followed by several others. "I'll take care of you, girl, I promise. You're the only _real_ part of Harry I have left." She looked up at Sirius again, regarding him with eyes brimming with sadness. She then looked back at the black shell of Harry's coffin with an expression of pure devotion. She gave a soft chirp of farewell and the hopped onto Sirius's outstretched arm, clutching it with such intensity that Sirius winced and fleetingly contemplated letting her fly alongside him or up above him. But then she ventured up his arm and onto his shoulder and rubbed her head against his wet cheek and temple and buried her beak and face in his hair, seeking comfort from the only person that her prior master had considered family.

He walked along, back up to where everyone was gathered under red and gold awnings, both giving comfort to the new addition to his life and taking from. Even though he still felt so despondent, he felt a new sense of duty to his godson. He couldn't explain what it was. Was it to take care of Hedwig since Harry couldn't? Well, that was only part of it. _I'll have to think about it later,_ Sirius thought as he lightly caressed Hedwig, who could only be described as crying. The Weasley family, the Order's aurors, Dumbledore, Hermione, Remus, and McGonagall had seen him coming and were standing at the entrance as a bleak welcoming party. When he reached their ranks Tonks walked tentatively up to him ruffling her short raspberry maroon hair and asked softly, "Are you all right Sirius?" He nodded dumbly, not totally recovered from the loss of Harry. Then again, he probably never would be. "We knew that you were over with – with Harry," Tonks continued, sad herself, but anxious about something. "We all heard the – well, I guess it was thunder – that came from over there. What was it?" she finally asked, relenting to the urge to just ask instead of being subtle.

For the first time since Sirius had learned about Harry's death, he smiled. It wasn't a happy smile, for Sirius felt that being as happy as he had been when he had finally flown away from the clutching grasp from beyond the veil was a dreadfully far shot from his current state. It was more a smile of grim satisfaction and contentedness. "I just went over to see him; to be alone with him one last time. I did make a little change to the gravesite though." Sirius finished on the high note.

"What do you mean?" Dumbledore asked in a voice that was as close to a snap that any there had ever heard. Sirius was taken aback by the sudden harshness in the old man's tone. _Oh,_ he thought, as realization dawned on him.

"Don't worry, Dumbledore," Sirius said quietly. "I wouldn't destroy my godson's resting place. I made an addition to his headstone, one that Harry would have wanted. I don't know why you all were content to have 'Dark Lord' as the murdering name etched on the stone for as long as the marble stands. Especially when Harry would have screamed at you for doing so if he was here. I changed it to 'Voldemort'."

Dumbledore smiled at him. "I didn't know that you knew the stone cutter's spell Sirius. It is a very difficult incantation and only covered briefly at Hogwarts. It's very rarely used and therefore in very few books." Sirius was about to interject and explain that he had just said the spell; that he didn't know it, but the Headmaster forestalled him. "I would have done the same Sirius," he reassured.

"Black, is that Potter's owl?" McGonagall asked abruptly. Sirius nodded. "We've been trying to locate her for – oh, I don't remember, it's been so long. Where did you find her?"

"After I put Voldemort's name on the grave marker, she landed on it," Sirius replied monotonously. "She started screaming at the coffin, like she was ordering Harry to get up. When nothing happened, she flew down and started nipping the edge, trying to open it. When she couldn't, she looked to me, imploring that I open it for her and let Harry out." Sirius thought back to the scant minutes beforehand. The fresh memory was so heart wrenching that he felt a new torrent coming on. "She was so absolutely dedicated to him," he whispered gutturally. He looked up with blurry eyes and saw that Hermione, Molly and Ginny Weasley, and Tonks were crying silently. Professor McGonagall had a handkerchief pressed to her mouth and nose and her eyes were brimming with her unshed tears. Dumbledore gently brushed away the tears from his eyes and sniffled lightly. The other men of the group, which included Kingsley Shaklebolt, Alastor Moody, Arthur, Bill, Charlie, Fred, George, and Ron Weasley, and Remus Lupin, were all gruffly clearing their throats, shuffling their feet, and casting their eyes skyward. Apparently he was not the only one moved by Hedwid's act of devotion.

"Well," Remus abruptly gulped. He cast a quick glance at Sirius and managed a forged smile. "I suppose that I should take you to your new home then, Sirius?" He politely inquired in a manly crusty voice. "If you're ready, that is," he added hastily. Sirius once again nodded and then gently untangled Hedwig from his hair and tenderly transitioned her to his wrist. She rapidly averted her gaze from him and the rest of the group. "Are you sure about this, Hedwig?" he asked. She turned her bright yellow eyes on him fiercely, as if daring him to give her a reason not to be sure. She ruffled her feathers and squawked haughtily at him, momentarily forgetting Harry. He smiled somnolently at her and followed Remus as he led the way.

A jolting stab of electric current shooting through him resurrected Harry. This had happened many times before. Every time Voldemort or his minions killed Harry during his torture, they either violently summoned him back to life with their newly discovered incantation (which could only revive those within a few minutes of death at most) or by actual electrocution which Voldemort had become quite affectionate of. And they seemed affectionate of killing him quite frequently also. Cursing venomously at Voldemort, Harry swore that when he finally got the chance, he would rend Voldemort into pieces so small they could pass through the eye of the needle without brushing the sides.

"Harry, Harry. You would not be suffering to this extent if you had revealed to me the _true_ prophecy and not that condescending little quip of your own design," Voldemort sneered cruelly. He stood beside Harry, who was lying bare-chested on a crude table that wobbled with every movement. Voldemort had acquired a variety of Muggle devices used for electrocuting someone. Depending on his mood, he would use the executioners chair, place Harry in a tub of water with an electric current about to be woven through it, or do as he had done now: hook wires to Harry's upper body and send electric currents through those. At the moment, Harry had one on each temple, four on his abdomen, two on either side of his chest, and one on each of the upper arms. He couldn't move at all because Voldemort had completely immobilized him to prevent thrashing about.

"Do you feel like telling me _now?"_ Voldemort asked patiently. "Or do you need another experience in the afterlife you seemed so keen on visiting in your cryptic message?" Without waiting for an answer, he nodded curtly to one of his henchmen, who promptly ignited the flow.

It was the worst sensation that Harry had ever been through. The pain and absolute agony flowed coarsely through him, ripping his body. And then, the now familiar heavenly floating sense would wash over him. He was finally free from everything. It was like being caught in a fast flowing stream. He knew that he was moving but there was no evidence to suggest or prove the sensation. But he didn't know where to go. As far as he could tell, there was no white light. But then, without any warning, he stopped. It was like he had been grabbed. He could still feel the invisible, chilling water pulling at him, silently urging him to follow its path. But something was restricting him, though he could feel nothing except the tug to follow the course. He could hear whispers emerging from all around him. But wasn't he alone? He didn't know; there was no life or color or shade to this place. And then he was jerked back to his severe reality.

"How about _now?"_

AN So…. You like? Tear jerker, isn't it?

Sorry about Ron's eulogy, it's kinda spasmodic. And when he goes and hugs Hermione and cries into her hair, I just get this image of it, wel, basically eating him. And when Dumbledore says 'pride, privilege, and pleasure' I see Geoffrey Chauser (or whatever his name is) from _A Knight's Tale_ saying that, and I almost expect him to add: 'Thank you! Thank you, I'll be here all week!"

_Didn't you just love the part about Sirius and Hedwig!_ I'll admit to you that I was almost crying while I wrote that part, and I actually did make "Twitchet" cry. I'm not sure if I should be proud of that or not.

Oh, and by the way, _MAJOR, MAJOR, MAJOR, DOUBLED, TRIPLED, QUADRIPLED, GINORMOUS FORESHADOWING IN THIS CHAPTER!_

And since I got chewed out for not mentioning her, I'll do her the biggest favor that I can think for her to make up for it. If you're into Draco/Hermione fics, you should check out Lilia Lasia. Her story, Nature's Debt, is really very good, and she's always complaining to me about how she never gets any reviews. So, if you like my stuff and want to do me a favor, shut her up. Hehe, LOVES!

I also feel that I should let you know that I'm lovin' all the reviews! I check them, like, constantly. And you know, more would always be nice for a starving author. wink, wink


	5. Alive?

**Disclaimer:** All standard disclaimers apply. I do not own Harry Potter, any characters, or any of its affiliates. No infringement on it or any of its affiliates is intended… blinks at angry mob _What? _If you were expecting something funny, too bad. I guess that I just don't have anything funny to work with today. disregards sharpened pitchforks, but doesn't like the looks of the scary rabid wolfhounds about to be unleashed Here's your chapter…laughs nervously…see ya! insert sounds of angry mob, and the ever so clichéd smoke of someone who just ran away _very _quickly

**Chapter Five**

**Alive?**

_**Two ½ years later**_

"How unfair can it get?" Remus asked, rechecking the lunar chart. "It's a full moon on Christmas Eve."

"Are you serious?" Sirius asked, dismayed.

"Dead. Maybe you could go to the party that Ron and Hermione are throwing," Remus suggested helpfully. "Almost the whole Order is going."

"Maybe," Sirius said doubtfully. Remus was really the only person that Sirius did things with anymore. If Remus went to the party, Sirius would gladly tag along, but Sirius had no intention of subjecting himself to Harry's old friends and their families while he was alone. It wasn't that he didn't care deeply about all of them. It was just that he always felt like they still pitied him, even almost three years after Sirius had discovered Harry's death. Sirius had gotten over Harry. There were, of course, times when he missed Harry terribly, but he had accepted that Harry was dead but that he would see him again some day, thanks in part to Luna Lovegood. Sirius had his pride, and he could not stand everyone being so careful around him. Everyone except for Remus, Dumbledore, Moody, and occasionally Shacklebolt seemed to think that he was fragile material that would shatter after the smallest knock.

"Actually, Moony, I haven't been Padfoot for a long time. Maybe I'll go play around as a lovable stray," Sirius invented quickly when Remus gave him a sideways glance.

"Sirius, you need to get over it," Remus said bluntly after a sigh. "In a few days, Harry's been dead for seven years. Accept it, man, and move on with _your_ life."

"Now Moony, I thought you had me figured out. I _have_ moved on. Harry's gone, but that doesn't mean that I can't enjoy what's left of _my_ life. It's just that nobody thinks that I can handle hearing Harry's name. You now how delicate I am, Remus," Sirius said sarcastically. "Liable to break at any moment, I am," he finished with a decisive nod and a mock grin.

Remus grinned devilishly in reply. "Mr. Moony would agree with Mr. Padfoot in his observation of Sirius Black."

"Mr. Padfoot wishes to make it clear to the dull-witted snob Mr. Moony that Mr. Padfoot was using sarcasm in his statement of Sirius Black."

"Mr. Moony would like to congratulate Mr. Padfoot on his great accomplishment, seeing as how Mr. Padfoot's blonde shows more often than not."

"Mr. Padfoot wishes to inquire as to Mr. Moony's color sense."

"Mr. Moony howls at every full moon," Remus stated pointedly.

"Mr. Padfoot wishes to ask the relevance of this point," Sirius said, puzzled.

"So do you."

"Ah, point taken." Sirius sat for a while staring off into space, oblivious to Remus watching him intently.

"You _were_ born blonde, weren't you?" he asked finally.

"_What!_ No. Why?"

"You _won._ I broke it off."

"I won?" Sirius asked incredulously.

Remus sighed and shaking his head, said, "Alas, the poor man's victory."

"_I won!"_

_**Christmas Eve**_

"You know Harry, you are much stronger than I had ever anticipated," Voldemort informed Harry in a conversational tone while Harry moaned on the ground. He had just had a three-hour session with a forked whip. Harry didn't even want to think about his cutting back. "You have resisted every torture method I ever conjured up. From the beating you just now received to electrocution, you have withstood it all. But Harry, I do not wish to waste any more time. In fact, I'm rather surprised that I put up with you for this long." He bent down and grasped Harry's chin in his bony clasp, bringing Harry's bitter green eyes up to level with his own bloody red. "Tell me the contents of the prophecy or it is your friends who will suffer. I'll give you until morning tomorrow to think about it." And with that he released Harry's chin and, with eyes full of malevolence, gave him a sharp, friendly pat on the back. Harry collapsed and cried out in pain, dry sobs emerging from him.

He looked up and saw Voldemort mumbling instructions to a sentry and then he left. The broad man came over and roughly picked Harry up off the ground and then cuffed heavy manacles attached to a series of chain links that rose up to the ceiling over Harry's thin, scarred wrists. When he released him, he recited a spell and Harry rose to his full height with his arms stretched above him as far as they could go and his feet scrabbling to touch the floor. The Death Eater chortled spitefully and left Harry where he was.

Harry tugged at the chain, testing its resilience under stress. He peered up toward the dark ceiling, attempting to pinpoint where the trail led to, but he could not see a thing in the utter blackness. He yanked vigorously on the chain, hoping to work loose the weak link. But even as his strength ebbed away from his wasted muscles and body, some magical sense told him every link had been reinforced. And then he blacked out.

He didn't know how long he had dangled from the chain, but he suddenly jerked awake when the large entrance door closed with a faint boom that resounded and echoed in the dome. _Is it morning already?_ Harry asked himself, dismayed, as he clenched his drained fists, trying to restore circulation. _Voldemort wants to know what the prophecy says. But I can't tell him! But I can't save myself and sacrifice everyone else either! I could make it up. No, he knows when you're telling him a direct lie._ He heard the echoing footsteps coming closer and raked his brain for possible ways out. Even when he had nearly convinced himself that there were none, he saw the pudgy form expose itself out of the gloom. It was Peter Pettigrew.

Hatred and resentment welled up inside Harry's being. "Huh, didn't know _you_ were here. How long did Voldemort say I'd been here? Seven years? In seven years time, this is the first that you've revealed yourself to me. Scared of your old pal's son, eh? Do I look too much like him for your comfort, little Peter?" Harry taunted.

"I take no pride in what I did," Pettigrew whispered as he walked up to Harry. "But be quiet, boy, or you'll draw attention."

"Why should you care?" Harry sneered. The man didn't reply, but muttered a quiet incantation, swishing his wand. The chain began to lower and blood rushed into Harry's arms and his feet made contact. Bewildered, he watched as Pettigrew released the manacles.

"I know this doesn't make up for what I did to you, Harry. But you spared me from Sirius and Remus in their anger, though I deserve everything they would have done to me. Go out the front entrance and proceed for twenty-three doors on your right. There's a hallway. Go down to the very end and turn left. About halfway down there is an exit on your right. I'll give you five minutes before I wake the guard." Pettigrew relayed the instructions to a shocked Harry as he led him to the door. They both stepped out to find the broad guard out cold.

Harry turned to the balding man and bid his thanks, though not without suspicion. As he raced down the corridor he thought he heard the man say in a low tone, "Forgive me, Harry."

He faced his right, counting every door he passed until he reached twenty-three, then followed the narrow hallway down to the end and turned right. Sure enough, there was the simple gray door. He reached it, turned the knob, and flung himself against it. It was locked.

"No!" Harry exclaimed, and once again threw his weight against the barrier between him and freedom. "NO!" Still, it did not budge.

"Oh, no … um… _Alohomora,"_ Harry said desperately. Even as he said it, he knew it'd be useless because he didn't have a wand. And then to his amazement the door clicked and opened. Not pausing to marvel at what had just happened, Harry bolted out the door and flung it shut behind him. The freezing cold hit him like a hammer. There was probably at least a good foot of snow already and more was billowing softly down. Harry also had the unluckiness to have only ragged jeans covering his thin body because of his torture the night before. He trudged along as fast as he could, leaving a trail of lone, blatant tracks in his wake.

He hugged himself, shivering, but going as fast as he could. After only a couple minutes of traveling, behind him he heard something that sounded like a distinct explosion. Voldemort knew he was gone. Harry would have normally delighted in the fact that he had made his archenemy so incensed, but this time, it drove him to a faster pace. If he were found here, so close to his place of captivity, he was done for.

Several minutes later they discovered him.

After Remus had drank his vile concoction that made his transformations more bearable for him and everyone else and had curled up in his room as a very large wolf, Sirius made his way, as Padfoot, out the door. There was already a large quantity of snow on the ground and more was headed that way. He lapped the snowflakes from the air with his long pink tongue and bounded through the masses of flurries like a fawn in springtime.

After he had thoroughly enjoyed himself in the front yard, Sirius began to trot through the streets like a flashy pony, going nowhere in particular and delighting in the brisk cold of the season.

He was almost ready to turn around and explore in another direction when his keen nose picked up a faint, but distinctly different and disturbing smell. He followed the source of the odor for a ways, just to be sure. Then a cold wind blew his way and there was no mistaking it. Blood. And it wasn't just any type of blood. It was human blood. Was there somebody hurt? He wanted to enjoy himself, but it was against his character and his morals to do anything less than investigate.

Nose to the air, he followed the divergent tang permeating the area. He came to a sparse grove and continued his search inside. Then he heard voices.

"Thought you could get away, did you, boy?"

"Didn't like our company, I suppose."

"Th' Dark Lord requesths that you sthay wif' him a bit longa."

Sirius's ears perked up at this last comment of the third voice, and a rumbling growl started deep in his throat and he began to advance more stealthily.

"Whadaya reckon we do with him now, fellas?" a new voice asked.

"We obviously need to convince him to come back with us," said another newcomer.

"So gentlemen, what spell do you propose we accomplish that with? _Rictosempra,_ or _Crucio?"_ asked the second voice.

There was a general mumble of ascent at the first suggestion and Sirius entered the clearing just in time to see five wizards fire the same potent spell on their victim, who soared a few yards and collapsed in a dead drop.

Sirius changed back immediately and voiced an incantation. Just as it had been in the graveyard, Sirius had never heard the spell before. But it flew from his wand, buzzing and spitting white sparks and drove each man off his feet and unconscious. Sirius proceeded forward to check who had been the target for their attack. _Probably some runaway Death Eater who finally realized what Voldemort really is,_ Sirius thought bitterly. But he couldn't help voicing his surprise when he saw that it was a very, _very _skinny man in nothing but old, ragged jeans. He could see each of the man's ribs with stark clarity and his skin seemed stretched over every one of his bones. He thought the hair was black but he could not be sure after to roll the boy had taken through the snow. His back seemed nothing but a mass of old and new scars and one to two foot long bloody slashes overlapping each other. He walked up and turned the man over so that Sirius could see his face. He choked a shocked, horrified exclamation. Even though the face was dreadfully gaunt and the lips were a deep blue, there could be no mistaking his identity. It was Harry.

Sirius didn't know what to do. His back and the wounds the combined spells had opened and created were freely bleeding and the snow surrounding him was already stained. He called out Harry's name and shook him gently, trying to revive him, but to no avail. Then the hideous thought that Harry might not even be alive stuck Sirius and he laid his ear on Harry's chest. Now that he was this close, he could feel Harry's chest slightly rising and falling in labored breaths, but his heartbeat was such a faint, faltering sound that Sirius panicked.

He lifted Harry into his arms and was even more surprised at how feather light his godson's body was. He quickly formed a clear picture of the Weasley's Barrow and muttered, _"Apparatus."_

An instant later, he arrived outside the front door. In such passion for the need to save Harry, Sirius didn't bother with knocking or even with the handle. He kicked the door in and was greeted with startled cries from everyone inside.

"Dumbledore, Ron, somebody," Sirius struggled to get the words everyone needed to hear out. "Help. It's Harry."

And he saw Albus Dumbledore make his way through the crowd. "Sirius, _what_ are you ta-" Dumbledore began until he saw the burden in the man's arms.

"Sirius come in." Dumbledore commanded. "Take a handful of floo powder and go to St. Mungo's. I will join you in but seconds."

Sirius did as he was directed and then whirled into the fireplace at St. Mungo's Hospital. He stepped clear of one of the many fireplaces that were part of the Floo Network for St. Mungo's. Immediately afterward, Dumbledore unfolded his tall frame from the inglenook and came straight over to Harry's limp form in Sirius's arms.

"All right, Sirius, what did you mean by that?" said Ronald Weasley, who had just arrived. "No offense, man, but you need to get past it. _And_ let us do the same. It's not very considerate towards everyone else when you barge in with some tale about Harry. Honestly. 'It's Harry'?" Then the tall redhead joined Dumbledore and his face abruptly turned a ghastly pale. _"Harry?"_ he croaked.

Sirius saw Hermione join the small host gathering about him and her reaction was very similar to Ron's.

"Come now, Sirius, and we'll take him to the front," Dumbledore voiced gently.

"Dumbledore, he's _dying._ I could _barely_ hear his heartbeat with my head on his chest. Look at him," Sirius pleaded, close to tears. "We can't wait in line for them to admit him. He'll die right here in my arms."

"We'll take him to the front of the emergency line," Dumbledore guaranteed. "Come on now. Ron, Hermione, why don't you stay here for the moment. We'll return in a few minutes.

And so Sirius carried his lifeless godson up to the front of the emergency row and watched as they hurriedly took Harry away, worried doctors and nurses surrounding him.

AN _Weeeeeeeeee! _Hey, another chapter! Although, I must say that I'm a little disappointed in you, my readers. I post chapter three, and I must say that I got a whole barrel of reviews! (Yes, barrel.) I was quite pleased. Then, with an optimistic and eager attitude, I post chapter four. SHOT DOWN! To those of you who reviewedchapter four, I LOVE YOU ALL! And to those of you that _didn't, GRRRRRRRRRR…._

Okay, anyways, it seems that I must mention every single person. For the disclaimer at the top of the page, I must illustrate my gratitude to "The Rubber Duck" (I think that's what she calls herself.) Yes, she gave me quite a few ideas for disclaimers, all of which are incredibly amusing in my opinion. Others have developed due to my time with "Twitchet _Kitty_." She is now so called because of an experiment performed at our infamous lunch table. Try dangling something, _ANYTHING,_ in front of her. She either bats at it, or pounces.

Now that you all are incredibly bored due to my incessant rambling regarding people you don't even know, I shall move on!

About when Sirius finds Harry, I was having a "bad-writing-day." I had it all planned out in my head, but I suddenly became remarkably un-descriptive and resorted to phrases along the lines of: 'not even really bothering with the handle.' It was supposed to sound protective, masculine, and heroic, but it just seemed to come out with Sirius going temporarily… hmm… shall we say, _mad?_ Honestly, though, I don't go back to fix it because it makes me laugh. So if you don't like it, too bad!

I feel I should address a couple of points here. In case you hadn't figured it out, this was written before HBP, just a bit after OotP, in fact. I had alluded to it previously, but had never blatantly said it. I have also had a couple of questions asking why Voldemort didn't just use veritiserum or legilimency to get the answers out of Harry. Well, even though I am embarrassed to admit it: I dunno. Actually, it's more along the lines of I completely forgot about them. Whoops.

Okay! So, review! Remember, starving author! Dying author, ravished, famished, wasting away! gasp! Quick! Review! I don't know how much longer I'll last! cough! gasp! hack!


	6. Recap

**Disclaimer: **I do not own anything even distantly related to Harry Potter. I do not own his cousins, his second uncles (twice removed) or even his godfather's gerbil (only by marriage). I do wish I owned Harry however. winks suggestively coughs Right, anyway, bye now! Oh yeah, have a chapter…

**Chapter Six**

**Recap**

Harry woke but did not lift his lids. He remembered being in the void for what seemed like a long time. Had Voldemort killed him again? But there was something strange. He didn't know what it was, but he didn't want to open his eyes to find out, fearing it to be another new method of torture that Voldemort had concocted. But then he realized what it was. He was _warm_ and _comfortable._ Curiosity roused him. At first, he thought that he was back in the hospital wing at Hogwarts with the white curtain drawn around him for some peace and solitude. Then he realized that it wasn't a curtain surrounding him, but a whitewashed wall. It wasn't even at a close proximity. Frightened but interested, Harry threw the covers off his frail body and stood up. He was shocked to find that he was wearing hospital robes. There was a white door to his right and he walked toward it and put his hand on the handle, but didn't turn and push. He was afraid that it might all be a trick of Voldemort's. He could now recall the events of last night and his last memory was of the five Death Eaters cursing him. In all likelihood, he was back in their presence. _Come on, Harry,_ he told himself. _Don't be a coward. Face him._ And so, fortifying his courage, he turned the knob, pushed, and followed the door out.

The doctors said that Harry was getting better, but Hermione couldn't help her nervousness. It had been thirty-four days since Sirius had brought Harry in. As far as the nurses and doctors were letting on, Harry hadn't regained consciousness in all that time. Hermione still remembered her horror at seeing how thin and battered Harry's body was. They had been allowed a few visits since Harry's sudden appearance, and he did look better but it was a far cry from being anything close to healthy. Hermione surveyed her company with anxious eyes. Ron looked tired and disheveled, having gotten little sleep out of his need to be there when Harry awoke. Hermione knew that she looked little better, for the same reason. Dumbledore looked rumpled and less professional and prepared than he had always done. Since the Christmas holidays were over, he had to spend most of his time at Hogwarts but he came whenever he got a spare minute. Sirius was the worst of the lot. For about the first eleven days, Sirius had gotten by on little more than perhaps an hour of sleep a day. Then his body had run out of energy to keep him going and he had sprawled out on a bench and fell immediately into a deep sleep, looking dead, for the whole world to see, in a hospital. But after about two to five hours he had forced himself awake and repeated the whole cycle.

It just so happened that all were awake and there with most of the Weasley family when the door opened. At first no one thought anything of it because doctors and nurses were constantly entering and exiting but, at the same instant, everyone seemed to realize that not a soul had entered the room for hours that day. Eyes swiveled to the yawning door and the bony figure that stared out from within. Harry looked them all over in blatant astonishment and when his eyes met Hermione's he whispered in a hardly audible voice, "Am I dreaming again?" Hermione could not help the happy grin that split her face as she shook her head. "Hermione?" She nodded. "Ron?" He went through each in turn, as if not believing his eyes and each person dipped their head in reply. "Professor Dumbledore? Fred? George? Percy? Ginny? _Arthur_ Weasley? _Molly_ Weasley?" He stopped dead when he saw the last remaining person. _"S- S- Sirius?"_ he stuttered, backing up and gripping the door with white knuckles. "You're _dead._ I _saw_ you die. You _vanished_ beyond the veil." He let go of the door and backed up to the bed, muttering in desperate sobs of grief. "It _is_ a dream. None of them are real. It's just a result of Voldemort's ultimatum. You don't want them to die, just like you didn't want Sirius to die. It's what you were thinking about when you passed out. You're going to wake up dangling from those chains to Voldemort coming in and demanding an answer. He'll probably even have some new method to sway you in his direction." He sat down on the bed and let his head fall into his hands and cried in despair, "None of them are real!"

Sirius walked into the room and sat down next to Harry. "Harry," he whispered kindly. Harry looked up at him with frightened eyes, the eyes of a broken man fearing that this wonderful life was a dream. "Harry, it's me. I _did_ die. But I wouldn't allow myself to be swept so far from your reach and I fought. I fought to get back to you and now I have. It's alright." And then Hermione did something that was even against her own will. She walked into the room and kissed Harry lightly on the forehead. Then she walked out of the room and closed the door.

"It's their time, now," she said.

Harry stared incredulously at Sirius. Sirius knew what Harry was thinking. Sirius had _died._ And yet, here he was, sitting on the bed next to Harry, telling him that he _had_ died, but that he had come back from the grave.

"All right," Harry said, straightening up and shining eyes full of mirth at his godfather. "All right, _Sirius._ I'll listen to you, and I'll tell you whatever you want me to say. But I'll just make one thing clear to you, okay? I know that you're either a dream or that you're just a glamour, since Sirius is dead and you can't take some Polyjuice, or you're something conjured up by Voldemort to make me suffer more, convince me to help him in his 'grand scheme.' 'Cause Sirius _died_ more than _seven years ago._ But I'll humor you." And he folded his skeletal arms across his chest and regarded Sirius with his piercing green eyes.

Sirius cleared his throat. He understood what Harry was doing and why. He had lived just under a third of his life in an existence of terror where every day was filled with torture, pain, and suffering. He was trying to protect himself more by forcing himself to believe that he was dreaming a wonderful dream where he had escaped or that he was still in Voldemort's keeping and under a new method of interrogation. Even though Sirius knew all of this, it didn't make it any easier for him to talk to someone who didn't think he was real. "Harry," he began, "Harry, I know what you're doing. _I'm real._ What can I do to prove this to you? If you make me tell you something that happened between the two of us, then you'll just think that it's from your memory and I'm saying it in your dream. If you want me to tell you something about your dad, then, if it's a good thing about him, you'll just convince yourself that you want him to have been like that. And if I tell you something bad, you'll just think that it's a result of the time you saw Snape's memory. I can't think of anything to tell you, Harry, but it's too painful to have you not believing me when I tell you that it's _me_, and I'm _here,_ and I'm _real."_ He stopped, exasperated. _"What_ can I do to prove it to you?"

Harry's eyes had softened during Sirius's onslaught. Quietly, he began. "That night at the Ministry, when you fell behind the veil, did you really die?"

"Well, I don't know. I guess that I kind of did, in a way. I mean I wasn't alive. I was being pulled along, like in a river, but then it was kind of like vertigo just sort of hit me. I stopped moving, or I guess I did. There was nothing to tell me that I had stopped, but I knew I had. I could see a little pinprick off in the distance. I guess that's what they call the white light. Anyways, I just sort of stopped, even though the tug of the water that wasn't really there told me I had to go. But all of these whispers gradually came up, even though there was no one there. I can never remember what they said, but they were there the whole time sighing at me. And I slowly started moving back the way I had come. It took me about four years to do it and to fight the call of the grave, but I did it. Sometimes, I would lose my hold and slip back the way I was being pulled and the whispers would stop. They would start again when I got to where I was when I started slipping. But I got here. I came back." Sirius stopped when he looked at Harry who had a far off look, as if remembering something. He coughed lightly and said, "So when you died, you heard things?" he said skeptically.

"Well, not until I stopped. When I first fell through, you were calling for me. And then you yelled. It was horrible. Almost like death magnified the sound of it. It was like being hit by a hammer. When you shouted, 'she killed Sirius' it just sort of throbbed through my whole body like my heart was a huge drum and it just circulated the entire sensation. And then I was swept away."

Harry was shaking his head. "You don't know what it's like to be hit by a hammer," he muttered, and before Sirius could react to that, he had rushed on. "How could you know that I said that? You were _dead, _not there." His head fell back and he gazed up at the ceiling. "I don't know what to think. I _want_ it to be you. I want you to be alive. But that hope just seems so unattainable, especially for me."

Sirius patted him gently on the shoulder. "If it helps, have you ever had a dream where someone just displayed as much logic as I did?"

Harry laughed, and a true smile crossed his face. "When Hermione was in it, yes. But even then it had some weird twist that made the whole thing too bizarre." Sirius joined Harry's deep chuckle with one of his own.

"Is it okay to come in now?" Hermione said from the door. "I heard my name and then you started laughing. I hope no slight has been made on my honor," she said sarcastically with a smile. And then she, and the rest of the members from the hallway flooded into the room.

Harry was receiving a torrent of questions from everyone around him and couldn't help but let a half smile cross his face at all of the indistinguishable inquiries being made to him. He tried to answer at least _some,_ but as soon as he began to answer the person, they and everyone else would come up with ten more. Finally, Dumbledore called for order.

"I think, Harry," he said gently, "that the most pressing question, and the one which we all desperately want to know the answer to, is where have you been and what has happened to you?"

Harry took a deep, steadying breath. The one question that he didn't want to think about and answer was the one first asked. He looked down. "Where should I start?" he whispered.

"Why didn't you come to Diagon Alley with Hermione and me?" Ron blurted out.

"I was going to, but the Dursleys wouldn't take me, and I never got any response to any letters I wrote asking people to come get me."

"I never got one," Ron and Hermione said simultaneously.

Harry smiled grimly with suppressed mirth. "That's the conclusion that I came to after about a week with Voldemort." And then, before he could go on, Dumbledore interjected again.

"I believe that you should start with your sixteenth birthday, Harry, for that is when this whole ordeal began, I believe," he said kindly.

Harry nodded. "I remember waking up from a dream about Voldemort. I didn't know what it was about, I only remembered that he was furious at the beginning but he was kind of happy, in a murderous way, at the end. Since Sirius died, I hadn't slept well at all, and the only thing that I could anticipate with contentedness was my birthday when I would hear from all of you and when I went back to Hogwarts. Then I looked over at my window and saw all the mail. It was the happiest I had been in a long time. I couldn't believe that it was my birthday. Later that day, I went down to breakfast and there was a weird telephone call for Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon. I never did find out what it was.

"Then, before I knew it, it was September 1st. I was really surprised that the Dursleys didn't grumble or balk at taking me. When we got there, they wouldn't let me out of the car. Then five Death Eaters appeared. Lucius Malfoy, Bellatrix Lestrange, Nott, Avery, and Dolohov. When Lestrange pulled me out onto my head they gave Uncle Vernon _50,000_ pounds." He smiled a bit smugly. "Didn't know I was worth that much. Well, they tried to put me under the Imperious Curse, but I wouldn't let them. Then I ran." He stopped all of a sudden, realization dawning on his face. "Wait," he said urgently. "Did Hedwig ever get to you?" he asked fearfully.

Dumbledore reassured him. "She made it to us, though she was wounded. She was quite insistent on finding you. She is now in Sirius's care."

Harry looked shyly over at his godfather. "Thanks," he mumbled, and then hurriedly carried on. "I sent Hedwig to Hogwarts to get help from you guys. Then four of them, 'cause I had thrown Nott's wand into the middle of the street, four Apparated into the alley I was in. Malfoy sent Dolohov after Hedwig and the remaining three all put me under the Crustacious Curse. Then I blacked out.

"When I woke up, I didn't know where I was. I was thinking about what had happened when Voldemort came in. That day started a seven-year-long nightmare that I never thought I'd wake up from. The first day he put me under _Crucio_ so many times, I didn't even remember my own name when the day was over. Every day I underwent some of the most painful things that he could think of. After about a week, I think, I was about to get some hundred lashings from the whip when he came in again. He was so fuming mad," Harry said with a laugh. "Of course, he _did_ almost choke me to death, but I thought it was pretty funny, afterwards. I had gotten _both_ worlds out looking for me. Now he had to hide me from, not only the whole wizarding world, but also pesky Muggles who didn't know when to stop. He gave the guy beating me orders to 'give me extra for good measure' 'cause he wanted to hear my screams all the way to his rooms, wherever those were. Then he told the guy to pull out my right back molar on the top and give it to him along with my glasses." Harry stopped, running his tongue over the now healed gap. All the other teeth Voldemort had put back in so he could pull them out again later. Voldemort was particularly fond of pulling teeth and Harry only had thirty-two after all. Well, thirty-one. That was the only tooth he had missing.

Hermione gasped suddenly. "The skeleton!" she cried in abrupt insight. When no one seemed to follow that statement, except maybe for Dumbledore, she sighed exasperatedly. "Don't you _remember?"_ she demanded. "Harry's skeleton! It only had _one unbroken tooth!_ In the _back_ _right_ on the _top!_ Voldemort set us up so he wouldn't have to worry about people looking for Harry anymore!" Harry watched as the same awareness that had hit Hermione washed over the rest of them.

"About a year later, he told me that all of you had stopped looking for me, convinced that I was dead. He said that the only way to identify a body after it had been horribly burned was the pulp in the teeth and that he had made sure that the traitor's body was charred to ashes and my tooth was the only whole one left attached." He shuddered. "That was the same day that he brought the dementors in." Nearly everyone gasped. They knew firsthand what dementors did to him. "I really don't know what else to call it," Harry admitted, "but I guess I developed a type of resistance to them. Bit by bit, I didn't feel them as much and they didn't have the same effect on me. By the end it just got to the point where I only felt like I'd never be happy again and only heard a very faint screaming, as if from a far-off whisper. After Voldemort learned that my tortures didn't have the same effect on me when dementors had the power over me, he sent them away while I was under torment and brought them back when he was through. After they came in, all of my tortures are a blur. I only remember what he did to me, but not in what specific order. I actually don't think I remember everything, though. Do you want me to tell you?" he asked anxiously with raised eyebrows. "It's not very pleasant," he cautioned.

There was a pause while everyone thought it over, glancing around to see their company's decision. Finally everyone was giving a resolute nod with grimly set faces. Harry sighed and then furrowed his brow. "Fine. Apart from _Crucio_ and the flogging, he favored using Muggle tactics. I'm sure that he pulled every one of my teeth at least three times." He saw Hermione's hand fly to her mouth and she gave a sympathetic moan. "He put them all back so he could pull them again. The only one I'm missing is the back right on the top. He used a blowtorch against my feet, hands, ears, and other sensitive parts. I don't remember how may times he slit my wrists or my throat. Almost all of my bones have been shattered when he decided to try his luck with a hammer. He managed to get hold of a hypodermic syringe and injected me with the foulest things." Harry suddenly let out a laugh that was more like a bark. "I remember one time after he had pulled one of my back teeth. He asked me what the prophecy contained. I gave him a message that I spelled out backwards. I'm actually surprised at how long it took them to decode it. Almost a _week._ It was so funny seeing him swallow it."

Ron had a curious look on his face. "What did you tell him?" he asked.

R… E… S… I… W… E… C… A… P… S… E… H… T… E… C… A… P… S… Y… D… O… B… O… N… E… C… A… P… S… H… T… I… W… E… C… A… P… S… D…L… R…O… W… R… E… D… N… U… E… C… A… P… S… E… H… T… E… C… A… P… S… O… T… E… C… A… P… S… T… I… E… C… A… P… S… G… N… I… K… A… T… E… C… A… P… S… L… L… I… T… S… E… C… A… P… S… M… E… H… P… O… R… T… S… O… P… A… I… E… C… A… P… S… A… M… M… O… C… right here E… M…O… T… O… D… U… O… Y… T… A… H… W… R… E… T… T… A… M… O… N… D… O… I… R… E… P… E… M… H… T… I… W… E… V… A… R… G… E… H… T… O… T… G… N… I… O… G… S… E… H… P… O… R… T… S… O… P… A… T… I… D… O… I… R… E… P… S… T… N… E… T… N… O… C… S… T… I… O… U… Y… L… L… E… T… R… E… V… E… I… F… I…D… E… N… M… E… D… N… O… C… E… B… I… Y… A… M… D… N… A… T… I… F… O… E… S… U… A… C… E… B… D… E… I… D… S… U… I… R… I… S… D… O… I… R… E… P… T… I… E… V… O… H… S… D… N… A… Y… C… E… H… P… O… R… P… S… U… O… I… C… E… R… P… R… U… O… Y… E… K… A… T… D… O… I… R… E… P… E… M… E… T… I… B…" Harry recited.

Hermione and Dumbledore were the quickest to figure it out. Dumbledore had a twinkle in his eye and his mouth twitched but Hermione seemed shocked that Harry would do such a thing. _"Harry!_ Don't you realize what he could have _done _to you? He could have _killed_ you!"

"He did," Harry said matter-of-factly.

"What did it say?" Ron asked.

Hermione rolled her eyes in exasperation, attention momentarily diverted from Harry's reply. It said, with punctuations spelled out: 'Bite me. Take your precious prophecy and shove it. Sirius died because of it and may I be condemned if I ever tell you its contents. It's going to the grave with me. No matter what you do to me, I'm still taking it to the underworld with nobody the wiser.'" She finished with a pointed look at Harry.

Everyone except for Hermione and Molly Weasley laughed and even Dumbledore chuckled lightly. The remaining two glared at Harry reprovingly. "What? It was better than telling him, wasn't it?" he said meaningfully.

"Go Harry!" the twins exclaimed in unison.

"Was that all that he did to you Harry?" Sirius asked quietly.

"Well, no. There were smaller things like starvation. But after he deciphered my little message to him, he was … _livid._ I don't know how he did it, but he got hold of an executioner's chair." Harry hugged himself and shuddered while everyone looked apprehensively at each other as if silently asking if Harry meant what they thought he did. Harry could feel his stomach give a queasy rumble and then knot itself in several places at the raw memories of having electricity shoot throughout his body with deadly intensity. "After seeing how effective that was on me, it became the norm of every day. But you know how it goes. Your body and your heart can only take so much electric current before it gives out. After probably four shots of electricity my heart gave out." Everyone was looking around at each other. Finally, all eyes locked with his.

"Harry," started Fred Weasley. "You should be –"

"Dead," finished George, his counterpart.

"I know. But so should he," Harry said with a gesture towards Sirius. "It gave Voldmort quite a scare when my heart wasn't beating after he had turned it off. Heaven forbid I die before I tell him what the prophecy said." Harry turned his gaze to Sirius and stared at him while he talked, placing emphasis on each word. "I don't remember much. It was like being pulled under by a strong current in a river. Then I stopped, almost as if someone had grabbed me to halt my process towards death. There were whispers all around me, like they were talking to me. Not like I was overhearing snaps of conversation, but like they were speaking directly to _me._ But I couldn't understand them, they were too quiet, even in that echoing void." Harry finally broke his meaningful eye contact with Sirius and sighed. "Then I woke up. Voldemort had used his wand to send a jolt straight to my heart to revive me.

"After he saw how I responded to dieing and that he could revive me, he killed me every chance he got. Every time I died, it was the same thing. I would go for a while, then would stop and the whisperers would start to murmur. Anyway. He put me in water and put an electrical wire inside. He put me on a table and hooked up the wires to me." He shuddered again. "It was awful." He just sat there. He knew they wanted him to say more, but he couldn't bring himself to. All those memories, no matter the bright face and light façade he put on, tore him up inside almost as much as the electricity had.

Dumbledore coughed lightly, but before he could speak, the door opened and a nurse walked in.

"Oh, so ye're awake are ye?" the plump woman said in a heavy Irish accent. "Well then, it's about time ye got some food in yer stomach. It's been thirty-four days since ye've eaten even a morsel. And I'm afraid yer friends'll have to leave. There'll be plenty of time for conversations after ye've had yer dinner." And not showing the smallest bit of surprise that Harry Potter was alive and awake, she ushered everyone out of the room and conjured up some food. And before Harry could ask her to reiterate exactly _how_ long he had been there, she stuffed his mouth full and ordered him to chew.

After about fifteen minutes Harry had told the nurse that his stomach could not take another mouthful and his previous company had returned and the conversation began right where it had left off.

"Harry, would you please explain to us how you escaped?" Dumbledore voiced the question that Harry figured was the one he had been about to ask when the nurse had bustled in.

"How long have I been here?" Harry asked abruptly. He would not continue until he had straightened out how long he had been free from Voldemort's clutches.

After everyone, thinking he had started his account of his miraculous escape, had puzzled out what he'd said, Ron answered, "Thirty-four days, mate. You had us all worried there for a long time. We weren't sure that you'd make it. You'd lost a lot of blood and you're still really skinny."

"Don't blame me," Harry said fervently. "I never wanted to go anorexic. Anyway. The day started out with electrocution. After I had died a few times he sent me to get flogged." Harry winced. "It was a forked whip and stung like the devil's tongue. _Three hours._ I imagine that my back was slashed to ribbons." There was a general nod. "Then Voldemort came up to me and told me that I had been stronger than he'd ever thought I would be. In seven years I hadn't mumbled a word about the prophecy, except for my tiny message, or anything else he ever asked. He told me that he'd had enough, that he was through with wasting time. He said that if, by morning, I hadn't started cooperating with him, he'd come after all of you in a stronger force. Then he slapped me on the back and went to the guard, gave him some instructions, and then left. The guard then came over to me and cuffed my wrists. Then he said some magic, I couldn't make out what it was because his speech was slurred. The chain on the manacles rose up above my head until my arms were as high as they could go. Then he left too. I tried to pull the chains down, but as you can imagine, I wasn't very strong and each link was reinforced magically. I passed out. When I woke up, it was because someone had entered the room. I thought that it was morning and that Voldemort had come to find my answer. I racked my brain, trying to find something I could tell him that would convince him so he wouldn't come after all of you. But it wasn't morning and it wasn't Voldemort either." He turned his gaze onto Sirius. "It was Pettigrew."

"What!" Sirius growled. "How dare he show himself to you! You never mentioned him being there before! Probably the first time he worked up the guts to face you!"

"Sirius!" Harry interposed before the man could go any further. "He let me go."

"What?" exclaimed everyone concurrently, stunned.

"He let me go," Harry repeated, and then after a pause to measure the importance of these words, continued. "He brought the chain down and released the cuffs, then gave me instructions on how to get out. He said he'd give me five minutes before he woke the guard. When I started running, I heard him whisper 'Forgive me, Harry'. I don't know if I was meant to hear that or not." He paused again to let these words soak in as well. While he had definitely not absolved Pettigrew of what he had done to Harry's family, he was starting to see him in a different sort of light that was composed mostly of pity. "When I got to the door outside, it was locked." He stopped again, but this time for a dissimilar reason. _Should I tell them about not having a wand and whispering_ Alohomora? Harry asked himself. _They might think that I had gone crazy while I was there._ He decided against it. "It's a good thing that I grabbed the guard's wand or I might not've been able to get out in time. I wish I hadn't been an idiot and thrown it down as soon as I got out the door," he muttered in self-disgust. He cast a dejected look around and saw that it looked like everyone had swallowed his story. He was proud of the successful untruth, but at the same time was even more appalled that he had become so adept at lying that he had to lie to his friends now.

"I stumbled along in the snow for a while and after about five minutes the Death Eaters came on me. They taunted me for a minute or two and then came to a mutual agreement to curse me with _Rictosempra._ When I woke up, I was here."

"Thank you Harry," Dumbledore bowed his head politely. "And now, if you will be so kind as to allow me to inform you of the knowledge that we had, I will tell you what we presumed had happened. When no one saw you at Gryffindor Table on the first night, we became very distressed. We consulted with Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley and they provided us with some letters. We now know that these letters were planted to keep us off Voldemort's trail for as long as possible. The next day, I became aware of a Muggle broadcast that spoke of a disappearance in London on September first. I went straight away to your Aunt and Uncle's house." Dumbledore sighed, and Harry's spirits lifted slightly. "I'm afraid that I quite lost my temper. After I had questioned them and had discovered that they had sold you to Voldemort for 50,000 pounds I took a temporary leave of my senses. I _exploded_ at them and cursed each one for life. I told Petunia that for every pence of the money that the household spent she would get one more wrinkle on her face, another gray hair would appear, and a quarter-hour of her life would vanish. For every pound your cousin Dudley gained he would experience the exact same harassment and beatings that he gave you, both waking and unconscious. And with your Uncle Vernon, every time that he so much as thought an ill word against you, he would relive all the pain that you had experienced during your death. I don't imagine that he's suffered much." He stopped when Harry couldn't hold his laughter in any longer and burst out, releasing his suppressed mirth.

"I can't believe you did that! I must say, Professor, that I'm impressed. You cursed my aunt with one of the very things that she is absolutely terrified of; I wonder how much weight Dudley has lost? And don't worry about Uncle Vernon. I've died numerous times, each one of them very painful. They're all suffering. Don't worry."

"Always knew that you were a sadistic little imp, Harry," Fred declared happily while George was pretending to wipe away tears of pride.

"Fred! George!" Mrs. Weasley scolded half-heartedly.

Dumbledore allowed himself an understanding chuckle before continuing on. "Later, I realized that I might have been a bit too emotional at the time, but I still haven't ever gotten around to revoking their curses. It keeps getting pushed to the bottom of my list of priorities, somehow. I forced the Ministry to send out aurors looking for you. Then, during the Christmas holidays, Nymphadora Tonks, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Alastor Moody, the Weasley family including Ron, Hermione, and myself set out to look for you in the Mojave Desert in the United States. Nymphadora spotted something and your lithe friends here," he said, indicating Ron and Hermione with a gesture, "had the misfortune to be the first to reach the blackened remains of a body. As you know, it had been burnt to practically charred ashes and had only one intact tooth. After further examination of the area, we found your glasses, your school trunk with your belongings and a note. It read: _'Here's your savior, Dumbledore.'_ After that, I am afraid that we stopped looking for you." He sighed. Harry knew that the man felt tremendous guilt at having given up on Harry. Harry wanted to tell him that it was all right, but he also wanted everyone to feel guilty at not believing in his return. He immediately felt ashamed of this and awkwardly reached out to pat Dumbledore a couple times on the back.

"You can comfort me all you want Harry, but that does not erase the fact that we abandoned you after the barest amount of searching. And I pride myself at knowing how Voldemort's mind works more than anyone. It was too easy, too simple of a solution for him." He released a long breath. "Then, four years after you disappeared, Sirius came back. He just _appeared_ on the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Too weak to bring himself to us, Firenze was kind enough to canter out and bring him back to the school. I had the grim duty of informing him of what we had presumed happened to you. Six months later, we had your funeral."

"Wow. Stop. Question. Let me just straighten this out in my head. _Four_ and _½_ _years_ after I die you have my funeral? Were you _waiting_ for Sirius to come back?"

Dumbledore smiled wryly. "We _would_ have given you a proper ceremony as soon as we returned from the United States with your body. But the Ministry found out that we had discovered your cadaver and … um… _confiscated_ your remains to… er… _study_ it." He sounded more than a little puzzled at the Ministry's actions.

Harry raised his eyebrows in mock curiosity. "Does the Ministry know that I'm alive?" he asked sweetly.

"Well, we've _tried_ to keep it secret," Hermione admitted. "But the nurses and doctors could have leaked something. The _Daily_ _Prophet_, and the _Quibbler_, and such have been asking us all questions about you. I guess that it's only fair to assume that the Ministry knows as well. We've all been ignoring and brushing off all of reporters and mail and everything, but I don't know if that has deterred them any."

"I wonder if the people who _studied_ my body know that I'm alive," Harry mused almost to himself in the same sparklingly innocent voice. "I wonder what a shock my sudden _resurrection_ will cause them when I finally heal enough to make a public appearance." Ron chuckled lightly and Harry granted him a wolfish grin, all coyness gone.

"Finishing up our end of the tale," Dumbledore continued, "after your wake, we put it behind us. You were a painful memory for all of us. We didn't want to be reminded of what we had done that had caused your death. Sirius had a very difficult time coping with your bereavement. He was consumed very deeply into his depression. It took nearly a year for him to recover." Harry glanced concernedly over at Sirius. He was still a thin man, but now it was more wiry muscles. His face wasn't as gaunt as Harry remembered it being after his escape from Azkaban and the years following. Even though Sirius was noticeably healthier, Harry could still make out the vestiges of prolonged worry. He also guessed that it had recently surfaced again when Harry's ultimate condition was unknown. He granted a weakly reassuring smile. Sirius grinned broadly in reply.

"So, now that we're all caught up on recent events, what do we do now?" Harry asked, quickly changing the subject. He still wasn't positive on how he was to regard Sirius. He had lived seven years with him being "dead" and then he came back and here he was. Although he supposed that he couldn't throw that many stones when Sirius had believed _him_ dead for years also. "I'm rather partial to _leaving,_ myself."

AN I'm back! YAY! I had to go on a Forensics meet this weekend, so that's why I didn't end up updating on Friday like I had wanted to. You poor deprived readers! I mean, I posted late last time, and then am prevented from updating for two days! And all my update consists of is a rehash of what you already mostly know. I kinda feel bad. sigh Okay, bad feeling's gone! You can suffer! 

So how did you like Harry being all indifferent to everything while he was talking and then getting all cheerful? I'll let you all in on a little secret. When it gets to an emotional part or something like that, and I start to _make fun of it,_ it usually means that I had a bad day. When I get angry, I get _extremely_ sarcastic. So now you all know the method to my madness.

Actually, right now I'm watching Christmas Vacation and I can't help but laugh diabolically at all the misfortune!

You know, I really need to start making notes of what I want to tell you. I usually remember what I was going to tell you right after I update. And then I forget when I wanted to say when it comes time to update. Well, whatever. I guess it's not all that important. Maybe next time. But there is this one thing. You might only get one, maybe two, updates for the remainder of the year 2005. On Friday, the 23, my parents and I are going to fly up to Anchorage to be with the rest of my family for Christmas and New Year. Just to forewarn you.

Now remember! Ravenous author! I even put in these subtle little hints at the end, and only a few people picked up on it! Fine! I give up on subtlety! I'll give it to ya straight!

REVIEW!

Happy now? I mean, c'mon, I say I'm dieing and you don't care? I barely survived off the meager amounts that I received. But then I came back from Bozeman and I had a handful waiting for me. So it was all good. I don't really care if you think I'm ranting and raving and being annoying! If you want me to shut up, then there's a quick, easy, and quite effective way to do it. I think you know what I mean.


	7. Game Over

**Disclaimer: **I do not own a mansion in Milan, I do not own a summer cottage in France, I do not own a cabin in the Alps, I do not own a pickle factory in Brazil, I do not own a canal in Venice…ponders…in fact, I own very little. This computer isn't even mine. So, to conclude, I do not own Harry Potter either. Woohoo. What I _can_give you however is this chapter. Merry Christmas, happy birthday, etc etc. throws confetti

**Chapter Seven**

**Game Over**

"_Have we found him yet?" a terrible voice hissed in his mind. Slowly an image appeared in his subconscious. He was looking through the eyes of another. He was in a dim, dank room with only a single fading torch to light the area. It was small and enclosed and his own instincts told him to be afraid and to quit this place altogether, but another part told him that this was home. The two emotions battled with each other until the latter won. His foremost instinct would have triumphed over the other had it not been for the dilemma that he was not able to move. He was merely an observer._

"_No, my lord," a wizened old man groveled in a high, squeaking voice caused by his failing nerves. "We have found no sign of the man's passing anywhere. From where he escaped we followed the tracks to a grove inside the park. That's where we found our men. There was a bloodied spot of snow and some large footprints to where someone kneeled down next to it. It's as if he appeared out of nowhere," the man squeaked in a desperately bewildered voice. "There were some wolf-sized prints and then they disappeared and the man's just _appeared! _Please, forgive our failure! Please!" the man shrieked on the edge of insanity. He only felt cold indifference toward the old fool. After all, he was only a disappointment. And those must be taken care of immediately before further harm could be done. He raised his wand slowly. "NO! MASTER PLEASE! I BEG YOU! NOOO-!" His cry was cut off sharply and the only sound that followed was that of his body falling in a crumpled heap. He seemed to be in a daze. His mind was numbed with a sudden realization. He knew that normally he would have been furious with the infidel but now he didn't really care. He knew. All of a sudden, his reality altered itself and spun, twisting itself into two separate identities. _

_He was staring at two blood red eyes that smiled with malicious triumph. In his mind he heard the high-pitched, bitter voice that he knew so well. _Harry Potter, _it mused. _You should've known that you couldn't stay away from me for long. St. Mungo's? Hmm. I should've guessed._ Fear overcame him and with an incredible force of effort, he wrenched his mind from the frigid clasp of Lord Voldemort's presence._

He woke to his own strangled yells. He was on the floor in his room at St. Mungo's Hospital, tangled in his drenched bed sheets. Gasping he looked up and saw a small semicircle of anxious people around him. His brow was wet and his hair was dripping into his eyes and down his nose. He managed to breathe out two words that terrified everyone witnessing. "He knows."

AN Gahh! Don't hate me, please! It really wasn't planned! I had no idea that this chapter was going to correspond with my vacation! I didn't mean to leave you hanging at such a pivotal point! EEP! Don't hurt me! author cowers in fear

nervous cough So, uh yeah… rises from fetal position and straightens clothes Umm… Did you like it? You're all probably like "She has the nerve to ask that?" Well… yeah, I do. Sorta. This chapter, I resign myself to the fact that I am forced to accept rather, shall we say, _angry_ reviews. Go ahead! Chew me out! I won't read them until I get back in any case. I know. I know. I'm merely prolonging the inevitable.

Hey! I remembered what I was going to tell you last time! Early on, I was asked if this was a slash fic. In answer: absolutely not. While I'm not against reading a well-written one every now and again, I'll never write one. It's not exactly my forte, I guess you could say. So if you had any notions about anything, um… _happening…_ to Harry during his detainment, I didn't put it in there. I suppose that if you used your imagination, it's quite easy to see it there, but it was never intended. I guess if you really want to, you can add it in there yourself. ;)

Hmm… anything else? No? No. Okie! So, I guess all I have to say now is: 1. a reiterated plea not to murder me. 2. Merry Christmahanakwanzica! Personally, I'm doing the whole Christmas thing, but ya know, to each his own. And Christmahanakwanzica just sounds cool! C'mon! You know you want to say it!

Christmahanakwanzica… Christmahanakwanzica… Christmahanakwanzica…


	8. Sanctuary

**Disclaimer: **I wish that I owned Harry Potter. Since I don't, however, I shall have to make do with ranting about stupidly spelled names. For example, I would not name the evil arch-nemesis of anybody Voldemort (so easily misspelled into Vlodemort). Not _nearly_ as threatening, _is it_? Here have a chapter, with (hopefully) no Vlodemorts involved. And oh yeah, I do not own HP.

**Chapter Eight**

**Sanctuary**

The doctor had come in and given Harry a potion to send him into a long, deep, dreamless sleep. But the desired effect was not the outcome. His sleep was not dreamless; his constant dream was that Voldemort would come into St. Mungo's wrecking havoc upon the entire facility, killing everyone in his path, just to get to him. His sleep was not deep; he kept drifting in and out of consciousness, moaning and muttering indiscernible words and phrases. And his sleep was definitely not long. He woke within five hours of the time the spell was administered instead of the desired ten to twelve. As he approached the waking world he dimly heard snatches of a conversation.

"What did he mean 'He knows'? Was I supposed to get something out of that. I mean, sure, the way he said it was freaky, but what did he _mean_?"

"Yeah."

"Can't you two put two and two together?"

"Uh, five?"

"Uggh. Harry's had dreams of being in Voldemort's presence. He probably had one and found out that Voldemort knows something."

"No duh, but _what?"_

"That's what's irritating me! I can't figure it out! I mean, what would be one of the most important things that Voldemort's after right now that would scare Harry so much? It could be the prophecy."

"Hmm. Let's think. Who just got away from him after seven years of imprisonment?"

"…If you mean – "

"And who is the only person who knows what the prophecy says that You-Know-Who knows he can get his hands on?"

"So then – "

"And who is the one person who has constantly managed to piss Voldemort off and still get away with his life?"

"Okay! I get –"

"And who is th–"

"Alright! I get the point! Harry! 'Harry' to all of the above! But what does he know _about_ Harry?"

By now Harry had fully awakened and joined in the conversation. "Where I am," he said in a quiet whisper that made everyone jump.

"Harry," Hermione breathed. "Hey," she said accusingly, realizing that it hadn't been ten hours yet. "You're supposed to be asleep for another five hours!"

While she was finishing up her indictment, Ron plowed ahead, "You mean he knows that you're here?" Harry nodded silently in response.

"How'd that _happen?_" Sirius asked incredulously. "I mean, did he come to _your_ mind in your dream, or what? 'Cause you said that you always were in his mind."

Harry was about to respond, but the door suddenly swung open and emitted Albus Dumbledore. "Forgive me for the intrusion," he said for apology. "I received Hermione's owl only a few hours ago and was free to come just now. I apologize for having taken so long to respond, but I must say that I didn't expect you to be awake Harry. The doctor informed me that he had administered a very potent sleeping draught."

"He did," Harry assured him. "It's just that what happened in my little _vision_, I guess you'd call it, disturbed me to such a great extent that my constant fear was that Voldemort would just barge into St. Mungos's, killing everyone, just to get at me. As a result, I was never very far from awake; just barely beneath the boundary." He stopped, and a thoughtful gaze dawned on his face. "Either that or Voldemort drugged me up so much and did so many spells on me, that I've built up a tolerance level."

Nobody really knew how to respond to that, each looking uncomfortably from one to another. "Well, you never know," George said, attempting a light tone, "it might come in handy. Druggie," he added teasingly.

"Harry, why don't you tell us exactly what happened," Dumbledore said. "I apologize if you have already, but I implore you to tell me as well."

"Alright," Harry said, thinking back. "It started with Voldemort in some small dank room. He wanted to know where I was and the little old man who was with him didn't know so Voldemort killed him. The only thing is, is that he would usually be wroth with anger, but he wasn't. I don't know why, but it was like he could feel my presence. It's the first time. I don't know if it's because I was in close contact with him for seven years straight, but he could recognize me in his head. All of a sudden it was like he wrenched our identities apart but still inside his mind. I was just suddenly staring into his eyes and he said 'Harry Potter. You should've known that you couldn't stay away from me for long. St. Mungo's? Hmm. I should've known.' Then I somehow managed to get away from his mind." He rubbed his head, but his scar specifically. "It was like _tearing_ my mind out of his cold bony fingers. I could feel him clutching my brain, raking through it as he fought to keep hold."

Ginny moaned and was holding her head and wincing in sympathetic pain. "Sorry," Harry muttered, running his fingers through his disheveled hair.

"Well, I believe that everything is worked out then," Dumbledore said abruptly. "I'll arrange for your stay immediately."

"What?" Harry said suspiciously, already having some distant inkling of what Dumbledore meant.

"You'll stay at Hogwarts of course," Dumbledore said in a way that made it sound like it should've been obvious. Harry was glad that he had already kind of figured out what he meant. "I don't wish to boast about my school, but it and Gringotts are the safest places in the wizarding world. Unless you would like to stay locked in a vault, which Voldemort has already proven that he can infiltrate as you found in your first year, Hogwarts is the most secure area for you to be."

"But Voldemort can break through Hogwarts' wards too Albus," Molly Weasley pointed out. "He could stay with us. Only us here in this room would ever know about it. Voldemort would never suspect Harry to stay with a poor family," she said, a little embarrassed.

"There's only one problem with that," Harry interjected. "I'd know. And if I know, then Voldemort knows." He raised his eyebrows and said in an almost sick voice, "It'd be better if you count the two of us as one person from now on."

"But he'd know that you're at Hogwarts too," she objected. "What's the difference?"

"The difference, Mum, is that it would take a lot of preparation and forces to even _try_ to break into Hogwarts," said Fred bluntly. "Whereas five well equipped Death Eaters could _easily_ break into our home. Actually more like _one."_

"Oh," she said dumbly. "Oh, I – I suppose you're right."

"Well, are we all agreed that Hogwarts would be the safest place for Harry?" Everyone raised their hand. Ron leaned over to Harry.

"You may as well put your hand down, mate," he remarked.

"Why?" Harry asked curiously.

"Because your opinion doesn't really matter. You're going whether you like it or not."

It did not take long. Within the hour, Dumbledore had come, gone, and come again. Everything was in order for Harry to return to Hogwarts. And so, without any ado, Ron helped Harry get dressed (much to Harry's embarrassment) and Sirius and Ron helped to support Harry as he hobbled out to the front of the building, protesting the whole way that he could walk. He had expected that they would be taking the Floo Network but this was apparently not so. When he walked into the lobby, a handful of aurors who were part of the Order of the Phoenix met him.

"What's going on?" he asked Sirius. "I thought we would travel by Floo Powder."

Sirius shook his head and answered back quietly. "No. Dumbledore figured that Voldemort would probably have already set sentries of some kind throughout the Network. We can't risk you getting pulled out."

"So what are the aurors for?" Harry asked pointedly. "I'm not going to fly back like I did in my fifth year, am I?" He looked down at the clothes Ron had leant him that were hanging loosely off his frail body. "The broom's probably thicker than I am," he muttered. He hadn't thought anyone had heard him, but Ron broke out into a grin and poorly suppressed chuckles.

"No mate, don't worry," Ron assured with a mirthful grin. "Dumbledore thought it best if we take a way that nobody would expect, so he ordered some cars."

"Wizarding Rent-a-car, eh?"

"What?" Ron asked, bewildered.

"Never mind," Harry said. "So, uh, how do you expect it to be 'secret' when I stand out like a sore thumb. I mean, it's kind of obvious who I am, what with the scar and all."

"That's what this is for," said Hermione, coming over. She pulled out a long, hooded black cloak.

"You don't expect me to wear that out in public, do you?" Harry asked expressionlessly.

"Only when you're not in the car," Hermione said indignantly, tossing the cloak into his face. "It's not too uncommon to wear a cloak for you to be noticed and it'll keep people from seeing your identity. Plus, we have three cars and Fred and George are both wearing identical ones, just in case something happens." When Harry balked more, she came over saying, "Oh just put it on, Harry!" and bodily shoved him into it.

"There," she said contentedly, admiring her handiwork. "Make sure that the hood's up when we go outside," she warned Ron and Sirius before she walked off to talk with Fred and George, who were indeed wearing matching cloaks.

As they made their way outside Harry threw the hood up and the cowl went far out and down so as to obscure his face in shadow and yet hardly restrict his vision. And so, looking as foreboding as Death in the midnight shroud, he stepped out into the high noon sun. The three normal looking Muggle cars were the old ones that had seen much use but still ran well. In addition they were magically enhanced for an even better performance than they had seen even in their pristine condition. He, Fred, and George each entered a different car and were accompanied by two of Harry's close friends and four aurors to a car.

"Nice limo," Harry remarked as he slid into the car. He realized that this remark was lost on all his accompanying guard, but he felt like being a bit witty, considering the situation.

And so they set out with Ron, Harry and Sirius in the very back seats with Harry in the middle. The next row was occupied by three aurors and the fourth sat in the front seat with the driver, whom Harry suspected was also an auror. Harry could recognize none of the Ministry agents accompanying him. He was a bit disappointed, really. He had been hoping that Shacklebolt or Moody or Tonks would volunteer for his vehicle. He had seen Alastor "Mad-eye" Moody and Kingsley Shacklebolt and had offered a smile and a brief nod and had received one in return. Nymphadora Tonks was nowhere to be seen. Harry didn't want to think what he was thinking, but the reality of things were that he had been gone for seven years and hadn't asked anyone about the fate of some of his former companions.

Almost simultaneously, all three drivers started their cars. They began to pull out, the first in line leading the way. They all took the same course until they came to the first intersection. Then the first car went straight, the second took a right, and the third went left. Harry was in the last car. Suddenly the driver spoke up.

"You may as well get some rest Harry," she said. "We've been assigned the scenic route." Harry stared at her. She sounded familiar, but he couldn't quite place her. Her face was new to him, but her voice was ringing some bells. _"Tonks?"_ he asked when it suddenly came to him.

"The one and only," she replied. "You didn't think that I'd pass up a chance to escort you after I haven't seen you in almost a decade, did you? Moody, and Shackles would have come too, but we had to all split up since we didn't want it to be obvious that you were in a certain car." Harry suddenly remembered that Tonks was a Metamorphmagus and could easily change her appearance at will.

"Thanks for the advice," Harry said. "I think that I'll try and take it." And with that, he threw back the hood, laid his head back on the cushion and fell promptly into a light sleep.

Ron was lightly shaking Harry's shoulder. Harry woke up and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and stretched. Then he remembered all that had happened and in what situation he was in and sat up, looking about. He was at King's Cross Station.

"I have to take the train?" he asked.

"Yeah. It's the most direct way to get to Hogwart's and Voldemort wouldn't expect you to take the train that all of the students ride in." He paused and then added, "Sorry we didn't tell you about all of this earlier, mate, but like you said, you and him are to be considered one person when it comes to secrets."

The fact made Harry feel sick but he nodded, nevertheless. "I understand," he mumbled. "Everything would be ruined before we even got started."

"Hey you two," Sirius interrupted. "We're getting out now, so get ready. And put your hood back up," he added, seeing that Harry still had it down. Harry hastily complied, resuming his ominous form.

"C'mon," the auror sitting in the passenger seat by Tonks said gruffly. "We're late."

Not wanting to cross the crusty agent's gloomy mood, everyone began to slip out of the car.

"Put this on," said another auror, handing Harry a blindfold. "The other groups have already been spread out through the train, and the decoys have them on, too. As soon as we're on, the train'll start and we'll head off. Hopefully," she added, "if everything goes right, it'll be smooth sailing 'til we get to Howarts. All aboard!"

Everyone proceeded onto the train, Ron holding Harry's elbow and leading him, catching him if he tripped. Harry had barely settled into his seat when the train lurched and began to move. He asked if he could take his blindfold off now since he didn't know where he had been led to and received consent. He reached for the shade on his window to open it so he could watch their departure but his wrist was promptly grabbed. He looked up, startled, to see the same gruff, grizzled auror who had been so curt with them all earlier.

"Don't touch those. They're all down so that no one looking in can see which cars are occupied and which aren't." He paused, contemplating something. "What're you doing by a window anyway? You're the one we're all supposed to protect. Sit in the isle!" He tugged roughly on Harry's wrist and Harry swiftly stood up and sat in the isle seat.

"No, no!" the man cried, irritated. "You need a guard on either side of you. Black, Weasley!" he barked. "Get in your positions!"

The two of them hastily complied, each murmuring, "Sorry, Fowler." Harry got up and moved one over so Sirius could sit by him. The other aurors sat down at various places around the car. Tonks, who had gone to all of the other cars to make sure everyone was present and then to inform the conductor that everyone was aboard, entered the car and sat down. She screwed up her face and resumed her normal look instead of a middle-aged woman with skin that was beginning to sag and had gray hair. He noticed that her hair was now a baby blue.

Harry pushed back his cowl and slouched down into his chair, deep in thought. He was going back to Hogwarts, the place that he had always considered home. He had thought that he would never get to go back there when he woke up in Voldemort's clutches. It wasn't something one _could_ normally hope for when in the tortuous hands of the most feared wizard ever. He had dared for the first year, hoping that Ron, or Hermione, or Dumbledore would come for him. But they hadn't. They'd given up on him. Then, for the first time, he'd died. He'd been overjoyed, strangely enough. He'd given up on everything. His friends, his rescue, his redemption, his will to live. Harry truly believed that it wasn't so much Voldemort's tormenting that had killed him as it was his mind had finally convinced itself that it didn't want to go on and had shut off all of Harry's body systems. He remembered that elated feeling, knowing he was free, knowing the pain had finally stopped for good, knowing he'd be with Sirius again. But then he had stopped and heard the whispering and felt the restraining hands for the first time. And then Voldemort yanked him back into his agonizing, real nightmare. It was ironic really. He had been so happy to die since he'd be with Sirius again. But Sirius had been working his way back the whole time to come for Harry, who was believed to be dead, and may as well have been. It was a continuous wraparound ring of irony.

Thinking about his first death brought Harry to the subject of the mysterious whisperers and the restrictive clasp. What were they? Sirius had said that he heard them too. Were they just something that was normal on the other side? Harry didn't have any answers, and it was getting annoying.

He thought about it for a while and then was suddenly startled back into reality. The man whom everyone called 'Fowler' walked up and asked to switch places for a second. After the man had settled down, he leaned forward with his hands clasped and elbows on his knees. He sighed and said, "You looked so much like your father, that for a second there, I went back in time."

Harry looked confusedly over at the man on his left. "Do I know you?" he asked.

The man smiled and shook his head. "No, but your father did. I was very good friends with your grandfather who was an auror and your dad grew up having me around." He stood up and bowed deeply, making Harry feel very uncomfortable. "I want to let you know that it is an honor to serve and protect you Mr. Potter."

"Thank you," Harry said awkwardly. Fowler smiled, turned and walked back to his own seat. After Ron had sat down and pulled out _The Daily Prophet_ Harry turned to Sirius. "Who is that guy?"

"Fowler?" Sirius asked. Without waiting for an answer he continued. "Him and James' dad – your grandpa, I guess – were mates all through Hogwarts and the years afterward. They were as close as James and I were – practically inseparable. If you found one, you found the other. And just like James asked me, Mr. Potter asked him to be James' godfather. James wanted to be just like him. He was determined to be an auror, and he probably would have gotten farther into it if Voldemort hadn't come into the picture." He sighed, eyes going bleary as he recalled something. "Forgive me for sounding as old as I'm getting but, those were the days."

"How come I'd never heard of him before?" Harry asked, puzzled.

Sirius shrugged nonchalantly. "Nobody really knows why Fowler does what he does, only that he does it for a reason. Whether or not it's a good one or a valid one is debatable sometimes."

Harry lightly grunted his understanding but fell into silence once more thinking about how he had always imagined his father's life to be like. When he finally came out of his stupor, the train had stopped. He resisted the urge to peek through the blinds, keeping in mind the reprimand he knew he would get. _It's not like I won't see in just a sec. I mean, everyone's getting up and stretching; no one's acting alarmed. Either this is Hogwarts or another place where we change the mode of transportation,_ he explained to himself.

"C'mon mate," Ron grunted as he grabbed Harry under one armpit and hoisted him up. "We're here." Harry walked with him and came to the door to their car.

"Put your hood up," Tonks hissed at him. He hurriedly complied and pulled the darkness over his face. He shivered as he pictured himself as being a dementor. He realized that, to him, this long sable robe with a consuming cowl was exactly like the ones that icy fiends had worn in his third year.

"Now, when we go up to the castle," Ron began, "there could be students around to see. But as long as you keep our hood up, they won't know who you are. When we reach the entrance, put the blindfold on. Just keep walking and we'll take you to your rooms. I'll guide you and let you know when there are steps and that. Everything should go well if everyone follows that." Harry nodded and everyone began to step out of the car.

As soon as Harry was out, everyone began to form a circle around him, wands at the ready. There were three carriages waiting to transport them to the front gates of Hogwarts. To a few of those there, the coaches were horseless, but Harry was willing to bet that more than a few of his group could see the thestrals pulling the burden. Harry's group walked forward and took the middle cart. As soon as everyone was inside, the carriage rocked forward and set off at a steady gait. It was as if an uncanny silent command had been given to the carnivorous horses and they had mechanically moved forward. If Harry used his imagination, the constant squeal and squall of the wheels could double as being the eerie music that accompanied the horror films that toyed with the mind that the Dursleys had watched. Harry wanted to lean his head out over Sirius and Tonks to see what the other companies were doing, but for obvious reasons, he couldn't. He could only assume that they were following in like order.

Hogwarts had not changed as far as he could tell. The lake was still there, rippling and stirring slightly at the wind's every whim. The grounds were still kept in the same pristine condition, and every tree that Harry remembered still stood and he particularly noticed the Whomping Willow. He felt like nothing had happened; that he was sixteen again and was on his way to the great castle. But his vision was shattered as he glanced about the grounds and saw unknown students staring curiously at the slow procession up to the front gates.

When they reached their destination, everyone slipped out and once again encircled Harry, wands set. He swung his head from side to side and saw children whispering to each other as they recognized that the sentry was composed of aurors and the notorious Ronald Weasley and Sirius Black. Harry could only imagine the wild thoughts that whipped through their minds and out their mouths. He chuckled a bit when he thought of how they would react when the rest of the entourage arrived.

They began walking up to the castle at a normal speed, everyone casting sidelong glances Harry's way to make sure something didn't suddenly happen to him. Harry rather felt like an idiot walking up to the front entrance with an escort of famous aurors and his friends from the past. He felt uncomfortably aware of his billowing black cloak that was obvious as broad daylight. He glanced around and was acutely alert to every gaze and every hushed whisper. He felt his face burning beneath the shadow of the hood and cleared his throat awkwardly. When they reached the massive doors they swung open as if from their own accord to permit him entrance. He walked inside, feeling relieved to have escaped from the suspicious and curious stares only to be bombarded with those of every child in the building. He quickly threw his eyes down and tried to make himself as unobtrusive as possible. He knew that he stood out like a sore thumb and was miserably failing. His group had stopped, obviously waiting for him to put on his blindfold. He brought the heavy cloth up to his face underneath the cowl. Wrapping it around his head, he watched as the world disappeared into darkness. He felt momentary panic as he tied off the ends with trembling fingers until Ron took his elbow in a reassuring grasp and start to lead him forward. "Can we go a bit faster?" he asked in a hushed voice. Ron replied in one just as quiet, "No. We'll get too far ahead of the others. They might panic and think something happened if they couldn't see us. We need to stay steady. Don't worry. Dumbledore has everything planned out. The teachers are up there too, keeping everything in order and moving. We arrived right on time so everything's on schedule." Harry nodded, disappointed. He felt an itch develop in the small of his back as he continued to yearn to be out from under the gazes of so many.

They continued on for what seemed like forever to Harry. Harry grumbled to himself that they had gone up and down every flight of stairs in the castle and had been on every floor at least twice. He knew it wasn't true, but he felt like he was parading himself in front of all of the students that he possibly could. _Did Dumbledore want to insure that every child of Death Eaters saw that I was here? I can't believe that there's such a thing as no vacancy at Hogwarts so why did he put me up in the highest room in the tallest tower?_ Harry grumbled to himself.

He was tempted to call out, "Are we there yet?" when suddenly, the procession stopped. "What's going on?" he whispered. "Shhhh. We're going down," Ron replied. _Down? Down _where? Harry thought bemused._ Where am I going? And why are we going down when we just made it to the top floor?_

He was just about to voice his question, despite Ron's admonition, when there was a loud groaning sound. Harry jumped and heard a scraping sound. He cast his head about, frightful, trying to catch sounds of struggle or of anything, but could hear nothing except the scraping. Then suddenly silence ruled over the senses as abruptly as the groan and grating had done. He was lead forward and then stopped again. Obviously, this was part of the plan, but Harry didn't have a clue as to what was going on. His heart was still hammering from the fear that he had felt when all the commotion had begun. Then he heard the welcome sound of Sirius' voice bearing equally welcome news. "You can take your blindfold off now Harry," he said in a normal voice. Harry gratefully reached up and unwound his blindfold. In the musty darkness, Harry could see decrepit stone stairs that hadn't been used for years which was evident by the layers upon layers of dust. A groan erupted behind him and he turned around to see a wall closing behind him.

Everyone lifted their wands and said, _"Lumos."_ Globes of shining light appeared at the tip of every wand, flooding the staircase with almost unearthly light. The woman in front stepped forward and everyone followed her lead, forcing Harry to descend the stairwell against his own wishes. Each step echoed down the flight and a flurry of dust rose making Harry sneeze. He felt empathy for one of the aurors Harry didn't know who was bombarded mercilessly with a sneeze attack. Harry quickly discovered that it was a spiral way that descended steeply. After fifteen minutes he was sure that he was down past the bottom floor. Abruptly the stairs ended and they came upon a corridor. Harry peered into its depths but was unable to distinguish anything besides the encroaching darkness and the shifting shadows. _Where are they taking me?_ He wondered yet again. Despite his trust in his friends and these aurors from the Order, his imagination was beginning to wonder whether or not Voldemort had bought them for services and information. He shook his head to clear the unsettling thought from his head, but a shadow lingered and grew again, once more waking his disquieting qualms.

Everyone continued down the boundless corridor. As Harry continued it seemed that what appeared to be the end of the hallway never got any closer. It drifted farther and farther away from him, resenting not only his presence, but his gaze as well. Suddenly the woman turned and walked through the wall. Harry stopped abruptly, shocked, but Tonks pushed him forward and he walked right through. He was reminded vividly of the passage between London's King's Cross Station and Platform 9 ¾.

"Well don't you feel the fool?" another young woman teased. "Forgot that not everything is what it appears at Hogwarts did you?" She cackled uncontrollably at him. Harry didn't think it was that funny but joined in just because she made a hilarious spectacle. He had no idea really what _she_ was laughing at but he was laughing at _her._ After he had mastered himself again, he glanced about his surroundings. He was in another hallway, but this one was shorter and torches along the wall burned and flickered merrily, casting a cheery light. The aurors had extinguished their magical beacons. The torches flickered and cast dancing shadows and highlights upon a large wooden door.

Fowler turned to Harry and spoke to him. "This is where you'll be staying. The House Elves have already been here and readied your rooms inside. The password to get past the wall on the top floor is _Visedain._ Just remember that it's on the top floor and is the only one up there with no paintings or portraits. To get to here you'll be fine. It's completely visible to you now that you've seen it once. Dumbledore has set up extra wards about the castle and its grounds so that you're even safer. He couldn't set them up until you were in place, however, so that hopefully explains the blindfold and such. It has been an honor, Mr. Potter, and I hope to be able to serve you again in any way. We'll see each other again. Good day." He shook Harry's hand and smiled. Then he looked straight ahead and walked out, turning left to go back the way the company had come. Each of the aurors shook his hand and murmured something to him in the same manner that Fowler had, and then left. In under a minute, it was only Sirius and Ron left.

"We're to stay with you in the event that you need anything that has not been provided," Ron supplied jokingly. Harry rolled his eyes and smiled, then turned to face the door. He walked up to it and grasped the handle, but did not turn. His pride stayed his hand. As soon as he entered this new accommodation, he would officially be considered hiding. Could he handle that? He told himself that he would make up for it by recuperating during his time there and then enacting his revenge upon Voldemort. If his hiding would aggravate old Tom, it was worth whatever price to Harry. He stood up straight with a conniving smile on his face then resolutely turned the knob and entered his sanctuary.

AN: So, Alaska was awesome! I love going there! It's always so pretty and fun. And _I_ got to have a white Christmas! Ha! Take that, drought infected Montana! You can't ruin _my_ holiday season! And then, on New Year's, people around Anchorage set off _ginormously_ huge fireworks. It was _so_ pretty!

Yeah, so, anyways! Now that I've gone through a teeny tirade about Alaska and how wonderful it is, I think that I need to thank everyone who reviewed profusely.

Thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou!

So, I tried to give you a _sort of_ long chapter since you went so long without anything and it ended _there!_ I'm still sorry about that. Maybe I can convince some of you to call off your assassins. You probably don't think very highly of me at the moment, and yet still do. Strange how it works isn't it?

Once more, if you find something wrong, just tell me. You won't hurt my feelings, if that's what you're worried about. Flames could be welcome: they make me and my friends laugh! And I don't really feel like sifting through this chapter to find my follies, so I shall leave this task to you, my readers.

If you didn't catch that hint, I shall explain. READ & REVIEW! Maybe if I don't make fun of it, you'll have more reviewing material to work with. Lol

Ciao!


	9. Discovery

**Disclaimer: **If I owned Harry Potter, (which I don't) I would have enough money to replace my eggbeaters. You see, I was trying to make some coffee cake. I plugged the blasted thing into the outlet, switched it on, and it exploded in my hand. After I almost dropped it into the recipe, I realized that not only was my hand completely black with soot that the vindictive little kitchen appliance had blown out, but it had also fried the poor electrical outlet which was currently billowing smoke. sighs I wish I had some coffee cake. sniffs Here, take a chapter.

**Chapter Nine**

**Discovery**

Harry wandered through his underground house for the rest of that day. To him it was really that: a house. It was certainly large enough for it. It had everything that a normal house would have. Three bedrooms, one bathroom, a kitchen/dining room, a living room, a small library, and what Harry considered to be a rec. room. The three bedrooms were for him and two other people who would stay with him at all times. The people varied, taking shifts, but there were always at least two. His room was the middle one to prevent anything happening unnoticed, and the only way to enter it was through the other two. The bathroom was there for obvious reasons and Harry thought that the kitchen and dining area was there because Dumbledore wanted him to stay in his little hole under the castle as much of the time as possible. The living room was there so he could visit with his security or a trusted professor when they came to visit. The library and the rec. room were to help him avoid boredom as much as possible so he would stay in one place. Harry agreed mostly with the precautions but he had only been there a day and he had read three books and was almost done with a fourth and was bored to death. He stood up, not being able to stand it any longer.

He snatched up the loathed sable cloak and headed for the door and walked out, only to be greeted by Ron and Sirius. They had left the room to stand outside so Harry could have some peace and quiet while they could still talk.

Their conversation stopped abruptly. "And where do you think you're going?" Sirius asked pointedly. "You're supposed to stay here."

"I can't take it anymore!" Harry wailed. "I've only been here one day and I'm already sick of this place! I'm on the verge of counting the bricks in my walls!" He shoved past them. "I'm going to see Dumbledore."

"Harry," Sirius objected, "you're not supposed to leave. It's for your own safety. This was all done to protect you. Are you going to throw all that away by making yourself seen by numerous students who, as far as we know, are children of Death Eaters? I know it could be considered stereotypical, but for your protection, we have to consider everyone dangerous."

"Sirius, I'm not trying to be unappreciative. I'm grateful for all of this. I really am. But if I have to stay confined in this underground _vault_ much longer, I swear I'll go mad! I'd rather be out there facing him than in this claustrophobic tomb!" And with that Harry continued forward, his face like a thundercloud, and did not look back until he heard footsteps close behind him.

"Well, we figured that since we can't stop you short of knocking you out," Ron said matter-of-factly, "we'd tag along and make sure a first year didn't come along and do it for us. See, you can't say we don't have your dignity in mind."

"Thank you so much for your vote of confidence, Ronald," Harry muttered sarcastically. Even though it was meant to be a joke, it touched a nerve with Harry. He only had five out of seven years of education, was in a very withered state, and didn't have a wand. A beginning first year _could_ come upon him and he'd be helpless. He made his way up the winding staircase and came to the wall. _"Visedain,"_ he muttered. It slid open to reveal the Hogwarts castle covered in darkness. Harry tossed on his cloak even though it was past midnight. He remembered his own midnight excursions and didn't want to be seen. He made his way to the gargoyle that marked the entrance to Dumbledore's study._ Wait,_ he thought suddenly, _I don't know the password._ "Uh guys," Harry said, "do either of you know the password?"

Sirius said, "So it was in your best interest to have us accompany you after all, eh?" Then he walked up and spoke, _"Skittles."_ The stone figure revealed the hidden stairwell and the three ascended, Harry foremost in the group. When they reached the top Harry stepped out and was greeted with the same familiar study that he knew so well. The only difference was that there was a little more clutter than before and some things had been rearranged or repositioned. There was no one in the study except for a large, extravagant bird with wonderfully bright plumage that had its head tucked under its wing in deep slumber. Harry whispered, "Hello Fawkes," delighted that the bird was there. He continued to look around and saw the recognizable dark detectors with some added to the collection. He glanced up and saw the tattered old Sorting Hat peering intently down at him.

"All they had to do was ask me whether or not you were alive, Potter," it mused, partly to itself. "I've been connected with your mind the whole time and I would have known if the connection had been severed."

"Connection?" Harry asked, bemused. "Do you mean when you sorted me in my first year?" Harry asked, still confused. If that were so, then the Sorting Hat would have a connection with every child that ever came through Hogwarts.

"Only to a certain extent," the Hat replied. "That connection fades as time wears on, becoming less and less distinct. I can still feel every child that has passed through here that is still alive, but each is so weakened that I can no longer tell the identities even of this year's group of first years. But do you remember when you went down into the Chamber of Secrets in your second year?" _How could I forget?_ Harry thought impatiently but only nodded. "In desperation, you rather rudely stuffed me onto your head and begged for help and I granted you the sword. As you know, that was Godric Gryffindor's sword and I was his hat. I had a strong connection with that old man, to be sure. He instructed me to never give up any of his possessions except to the one who is worthy to carry them. In the Chamber, your mental shield was down in your panic and fear and I was able to get a good look at the real you and I gave up the sword. You passed Gryffindor's test. So as Tom Riddle is the heir of Slytherin, you are, in a way, the heir of Gryffindor.

Ron nudged him in the ribs and gave him a smug look.

Harry just muttered, "Yeah, whatever," and moved on.

"Wait," Sirius interrupted, stopping Harry's progress. "You mean to say that you knew that Harry was alive the whole time and you never told us? Do you know how much guilt and grief and pain everyone went through? Do you know how much _I_ went through!

"Headmaster Dumbledore never thought that there was that kind of linkage between us, so he never thought to ask."

Sirius and Ron were both about to explode but Harry shook his head and continued. As soon as he reached Dumbledore's desk he heard a door slowly creak open. He looked up and saw Professor Dumbledore looking down at him in his nightgown.

"Ah, Harry," he said, not at all surprised. "You have more patience than I expected. I thought that you'd be here hours ago. But I must say that I rather thought you'd last until morning when bedtime rolled around."

Harry blushed. "I'm sorry, sir. I didn't mean to disturb your sleep."

"But of course you did," Dumbledore said with a smile. "You came here in the middle of the night didn't you?" Harry grinned. "Now, I suppose that you are wanting me to arrange some way for you to go about the castle," he said, not really making it a question. "Very well," he said, not waiting for a reply, "I grant you permission to go about the castle and grounds at any time. But," he said in a stern voice, holding up a restraining finger, ceasing Harry's attempts to stammer out his shocked thanks. "I do wish that you'd go about at night more often than day, for then it is only teachers. There are the occasional rule breakers, as you well know, but the risk of you being seen is much lower. However," he continued in a resigned tone, "I cannot stop you from going about during the day when you wish. But I must stress the importance of caution."

"Thank you, sir," Harry finally managed to say.

"I do have a few requirements for you though," Albus Dumbledore said in deterrence. "Your guards must always accompany you when you leave, for one. Secondly, you must have a wand." Harry was about to object when Dumbledore pulled out his wand and hurried on. "That brings us to our next order of business. _Accio trunk!"_ A very familiar trunk zoomed out of Dumbledore's quarters and settled in front of him.

"My old trunk," Harry rasped, astonished. He walked up and touched it to make sure it was real while Dumbledore explained, "We found it near the body over in the United States." Harry flung the trunk open and gazed hungrily inside. "You'll find everything there." Harry reached inside and pulled out his old glasses. One lens was completely gone and the other was cracked in an intricate web. He smiled fondly at them. "Voldemort wanted to make sure that I could see everything he did to me so he gave me new ones," he whispered. He didn't know that he had spoken out loud, but Ron and Sirius shifted uncomfortably. He reached in again.

"Hey, it's my map," Sirius said gleefully, completely dismissing Harry's unnerving comment as he saw the familiar piece of parchment. It was indeed the Marauder's Map that Harry had pulled out.

"Ah yes," said Dumbledore, reaching down and taking it from Harry. "This, I believe, was how you, James, Remus, and Peter managed to get around school causing havoc and yet very seldom got caught. And how you, Harry, found your way undetected into Hogsmead in your third year, among other things."

Harry smiled. "If you knew, why didn't you stop me from going again and again. Especially when everyone thought that Sirius was going to kill me." Suddenly, there came a low warble and Fawkes flew over and lighted on the Headmaster's shoulder. Dumbledore reached up and tapped the songbird's beak fondly.

"Because every hatchling has to fly from the nest sometime Harry. You have had to sooner than most everyone else in the world. You will also recall that I knew the contents of the Prophecy and I therefore knew what you will have to do. I did watch you closely, however."

"Hang on," Ron said suddenly. "I thought the Prophecy broke."

"It did," Professor Dumbledore assured him.

"Then how can you know what it said?"

"I was present when it was first made."

"Made? By whom?"

"Professor Trelawney."

"You're joking. Really?"

"No, I am not and yes, really."

"So what does it say?"

"That is not for me to tell."

"Well then who can?"

"Harry."

"Harry? You mean _he_ knows?"

"Yes."

"How?"

"I told him."

"_Ohhhhhh._ So you can tell him but not us?"

"That is correct."

"Well, then will _you_ tell us?" Ron asked, directing the question at Harry.

"No," Harry whispered. He had been listening quietly the whole time. "I don't want you to yet know what I will have to do. It might be for the good of the world, but that doesn't make my situation any easier or better."

"What? You mean like you gotta kill Voldemort or die trying?" Sirius asked.

Harry looked up at Sirius with an incredulous look but before he could say anything, Dumbledore came to his rescue.

"If Harry does not wish to disclose that information to you at this time, you can do him no greater favor than to respect his decision. He will tell you when he's ready." Ron nodded solemnly and Sirius eventually followed suit.

Wishing to change the subject, Harry rummaged around in his trunk, extracting everything that had ever been placed inside it. He found his countless books on Quiditch, accompanied by the schoolbooks from his fifth year. He got down to the bottom and found the last four items. The item on top was a bit of silvery material that he knew so well. He grasped the flowing cloak in his hand and pulled it out, trailing the end over the lip and spilling it out onto the ground. His father's Invisibility Cloak that he had inherited in his first year. The hint of a smile touched his lips and grew until he was beaming at it. He resisted the urge to snuggle it and reached in and took out his wand. He smiled fondly at it. "So this is the wand I am to use during my wanderings?" he quietly inquired of the Headmaster. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the distinguished man nod. He placed it down on his right side along with his cloak since everything else was on his left. He reached in again and pulled out what seemed to be a devastated mirror. At first he couldn't remember what it was, but then he recalled the end of his fifth year at Hogwarts after Sirius had died. He had found the gift that Sirius had given him. His face blanched.

"I wondered why you didn't use that when you went to the Ministry to look for me," Sirius pondered. "In fact, I still do."

"I didn't open it and I eventually forgot about it. I found it after you had died and tried to contact you, but you didn't answer. I was so upset and so beset with grief from the raw emotions that I shattered it. I wish I hadn't but …" He trailed off, leaving the sentence unfinished. He cleared his throat and reached in for the last item and pulled out a very familiar book. Tears came to his eyes as he opened the album in which he kept all the pictures of his parents. He tenderly opened the book and slowly flipped through the pages, carefully examining each of the moving photographs that depicted his parents' glowing faces while they waved merrily up at him.

A tear slipped down his cheek and dropped down on one of the leafs. He hurriedly wiped it off before it could stain the sheet. He cleared his throat and wiped his eyes. "Thank you, Professor. This means a great deal to me." He stared out into space as his mind started off on another train of thought and his hands stroked the leather cover and binding of his album in idle movement. He suddenly threw off his ominous black cloak and snatched up his Invisibility Cloak. He picked up the other two items that he had set aside, the Map and his wand. He began piling everything back into the trunk in an orderly fashion, along with the broken mirror and the album. "Would you please have the House Elves bring this down to my room tomorrow?"

"Of course," the Headmaster replied, as stately as ever. Harry smiled his thanks and then said the first thought that popped into his head. "Would it be alright if I wore the Invisibility Cloak and used the Marauder's map? Without anyone there to accompany me?" he added the question, knowing that it was in violation with a rule that Dumbledore had just given him. "It doesn't lie, and no one can hide from it," he furthered his plea. "And it would just be on my way back to my rooms."

"I doubt that you would heed my words if I told you no. Even though you did not complete your schooling here with us, you are no longer a student. You must make your own decisions. As long as you do not place students and staff in danger with your actions, I will not hinder you."

"It's just that I don't _want_ to break your rules," Harry explained.

"That would be a good rule to live by Harry. I dare say that it is better than running around rationalizing everything you do with the pitiful excuse of 'rules are made to be broken'. Rules are made for safety reasons, Harry, and not only for one person. The vast majority of people seem to have forgotten that there is more than one person on this planet. And the vast majority of the people who remember seem to have reverted back in time and deem themselves the midpoint of the world and universe. Do not become one of those people Harry. I once told you that it does not do to dwell on dreams. Do you remember?" Harry nodded. "That is a dream Harry; a dream so brash and unattainable that even the Mirror of Erised cannot depict it. No man will ever achieve it." He paused and sighed. He gave Harry a very level look that relayed caution. "Very well," he sighed, "but I once again must press upon you the need for care. You may go."

Harry beamed at him and then told Sirius and Ron that he'd meet them back at his rooms. He spread his Invisibility Cloak over his shoulders and placed his wand and the Marauder's Map in his pockets. He pulled up the cowl and made for the door. He walked down the winding staircase and the gargoyle jumped aside to permit him passage. He walked down the hall a ways and then pulled out the Map and his wand. He tapped the parchment with his wand and muttered, "I solemnly swear I am up to no good." Suddenly, of its own will, ink scrawled across the paper. He saw various teachers roaming the corridors and wondered, not for the first time, if any of them ever slept. He quickly scanned the names and then gasped in astonishment. Wandering the second floor hallways was the name _Hermione Granger._ Harry gaped in disbelief. _She's a professor here? _he thought. _I guess I'll just have to ask her some other time._ He continued his examination. _I see that there are some rule breakers out and about unless we have some new teachers that travel in packs. I don't suppose that it would hurt to make a side trip and investigate,_ he thought slyly. And so he made his way in pursuit of one of the groups of names: _Joseph English, Christopher Griffin, _and _Randal Zimmerman._ It just so happened that they were near the statue with the secret passageway into Honeydukes cellar. As he neared the area, he could hear faint murmurings and was abruptly set upon with déjà vu. He took a moment to shake his head and regain his senses. For a moment there he thought that he was back in the Void with the Whisperers, as he had deemed them. It had come upon him so suddenly that at first he had actually thought he _was_ back in that emptiness, cold and alone. And dead, but unable to pass on.

He cleared his thoughts and continued on in the direction of the slight voices. As he drew near his destination, he could hear what they were saying.

"I could've sworn there was a passageway here."

"Well, you must be wrong. We've searched the entire area and haven't found a single thing. We should leave before a teacher comes."

"Yeah, everyone in Gryffindor is already teeth gnashing livid at us for the points that were docked off last time because of us.

"And the time before that."

"And the one before that."

"Oh hey, remember the time before that?"

"Dude, that was _so_ awesome!"

"Guys, keep your voices down, or a teacher _will_ come. Besides, it's got to be here _somewhere."_

"Oh give it up Randy. It's _not_ here. Lets go back to the dormitory and _go to bed. _You've been keeping us up for the past _week_ with your little _escapades."_

"Yeah man, I'm tired."

"Well then, _leave. _ Go to bed. I'm not leaving until I've searched every nook and cranny."

"You mean like we already _have?_ Dude, let's go. You've gotta be tired too."

"I'm not budging."

By now Harry was close enough that he could see them. One was off on his own, examining a wall. The other two were talking quietly. Harry moved closer so he could listen.

"Joe, we can't just leave him here. We're the ones that got him into this whole secret passageway thing in the first place."

"Yeah, and if a teacher comes along we can't just abandon him. We're in this together."

They nodded and then settled themselves on the floor. It was a few minutes before Randy noticed they were still there.

"What're you guys doing here? I thought that you'd be gone and in bed by now," Randy said suspiciously.

"I am offended Randal Zimmerman," Joe said. "Christopher and I would not desert a friend so readily."

"That's right," Chris supplied. "We'll stay with you until the teacher comes, and then we'll try to outrun you. But if we get caught too then we just might decide to bail you out. Again."

"Right. So are you guys gonna help me look or what?"

"No. We thought we'd just keep you company," Chris said.

"Fine. Whatever." Randy kept on and they sat in silence for a while.

"So what did you guys think of those guys who came in here earlier today? The ones with those black cloaks on?" Joe asked to fend off the encroaching stillness. Harry's ears perked up.

Randy stopped and unbent his body from his scrutiny of where the wall met the floor. "I don't know," he said. "It was kind of weird though. I mean, there were three separate groups, each with a guy in black in the middle, with someone guiding them. It was almost like a guard or something."

"That's what I thought," Chris said. "And did you guys notice that only two left. One guy's still here."

"Where do you think he could be?" Joe asked.

"Well, he had to have Dumbledore's approval before he could stay here, or even come in the way he did," Randal said. "And you're probably right about it being a guard. Assuming that it was, then Dumbledore probably wants him to be protected."

"Don't tell me," Joe interrupted. "He's hiding in some secret room or passageway," he taunted. "You've been obsessed with this stuff ever since we heard that story about that map that shows all of the rooms and passages and people on Hogwarts' grounds. Instead of trying to _find_ secret passages, I think your time would be better spent trying to find _it. _What was it called again? The Mapper's Mirage? "

"The Marauder's Map. And if it ever was here, it isn't anymore," Randy deterred. When the boy mentioned the map that Harry was holding his suspicions were confirmed. And besides, they were talking about him earlier. He thought that he would get to know them a little bit. While Randy was talking, he walked over into the shadows and pulled off his Invisibility Cloak and tossed on his black one pulling the hanging cowl over his face. _Thanks Hermione. This cloak is more useful than I thought it'd be._ He put the Invisibility Cloak into the crook of his arm and continued to listen.

"I've looked all over the library for it," Randy continued. It's not there, and there's no record of it having ever been. And I raided Filch's office a few nights ago. It's not there, either."

"Have you looked in the Restricted Section?" Chris implored. Joe looked on with interest.

Randy looked uncomfortable. "Well, no," he mumbled.

"Oh, come on!" Joe said unbelievingly. "How many rules have you broken at this school Randy? And you're afraid to break _this_ one?"

"Hey, do you think if we found the map we could find out who that guy is?" Randy said to change the subject.

"I don't think that there's a whole lot of need for that," Chris put in. "Did you guys even notice who was leading the guy in the second group? It was _Granger!_ Let's just interrogate her."

"And get a week's worth of detention for asking questions about something that's obviously supposed to be a secret?" Randy asked incredulously.

"Well, it'd sure be a lot easier than trying to track down that stupid map," Chris flared.

Harry decided he'd come to Randy's aide.

"There's no need for your professor or a map. And I'd hardly call the Marauder's Map 'stupid'," he said and chuckled when they each jumped out of their skins. But he was also impressed to see how quickly they recovered and had a wand pointed to his corner.

"There's no need for those either. I'm not going to hurt you. You can put them down," Harry said as he walked out with his hands visible. None of them lowered their wands.

"Look, friend," Joe said in a curt voice, "we don't know you so we can't trust you. How do we know that you don't have a wand hidden somewhere. You could be a quick draw."

"Well then, here," Harry said, and snatched his wand out and threw it onto the floor at Joe's feet before any of them could react. "Satisfied?"

Harry was awarded with a smile from Randy. He grinned back. Randal lowered his wand after a moment and said to his companions, "I think we can trust him."

They looked over at him suspiciously, but before they could decide Harry said, "'Course you can," and started walking over to the statue of the one-eyed witch. Immediately, Joe and Chris's wands jumped to him and tracked him the whole way. Harry grunted as he sat down against the base of the statue and eyed their wands.

"Look," he said, wanting to talk to them instead of fight with them, "you have my wand, it is the middle of the night, I am tired and very ill. You have nothing to fear from me." With a sigh he leaned back against the sculpture and closed his eyes. When he opened them Randy was sitting next to him. "So, you were looking for the secret passageway along in here?"

Randy nodded, defeated. "I haven't found it yet though." He looked down at his hands, wallowing in his loss. Harry nudged him with his shoulder and said, "Pssst," in a confidential manner. The boy looked up at him.

"Did you check the hump on her back?"

The boy's eyes widened in disbelief. Instantly, he was up and climbing the statue's form.

"Randy!" Chris hissed. "What're you doing? Get back here!" He and Joe still had not lowered their wands. Randy didn't listen though. He was examining the witch's hump carefully and eventually cried out in surprise and excitement. The hunch had opened into a passageway.

"Wow!" they all cried out. Each looked at Harry in wonder.

"How did you know it was there?" Joe asked in amazement.

"I did my share of exploits during my time here at Hogwarts," Harry said elusively.

"You were here at Hogwarts?" Chris asked.

"Of course. It's the best school of witchcraft and wizardry in the world. Where else would I go?"

"Which House were you in, sir?" Joe asked. His wand was now lowered.

"Gryffindor," Harry said simply.

"I told you he could be trusted," Randy said triumphantly. "He's not some Slytherin Death Eater."

"Um, sir, would you mind telling us why you're here?" Chris asked timidly. "We all saw you arrive today and we're wondering."

"Ah, I'm afraid I can't tell you that," Harry admitted. "Hush-hush, you see. Let's just say that I am recuperating from a seven-year-long… er… _sickness,_ shall we say. I told you that I am very ill."

"Well then can you tell us who you are?" Randy pleaded.

"Alas, your first two questions are ones that I cannot answer. And I do have a rather limited amount of time. I'm not really supposed to be, and if I stay much longer we're all going to be in a lot of rather severe trouble. And judging by your previous questions, all you want to ask of me are things that I am forbidden to answer," Harry said. "But that's how it goes sometimes, eh? Perhaps I will come upon you again." He stood up and pulled out the Marauder's Map and examined it quickly. "Unfortunately, you three have to leave too. Miss Granger is headed this way."

"What?" they all said together. "How do _you_ know that?"

Harry smiled and held up the parchment. "With what else than the Marauder's Map?" he asked. They all drew in their breath. "Oh I almost forgot," he said. _"Accio wand!"_ he commanded and his wand flew to his hand. He smiled triumphantly. It had worked. He wasn't crazy. But before they could react he unfurled the Invisibility Cloak and cast it over his shoulders then began walking towards his quarters. "Please don't repeat anything of our meeting to anyone. I would greatly appreciate it. Oh, and I wouldn't linger too long. She might catch you."

"Guys, he has the Marauder's Map, an Invisibility Cloak _and_ he just did wandless magic!" Randy breathed. Harry continued walking on, listening to his footsteps lightly echoing through the corridor. Then a thought struck him and he stopped. _I should say hello to Hermione._ "Mischief managed."

"He's coming back," Joe whispered. "His footsteps are getting louder."

"What do you think he's doing?" Chris asked.

"I don't know, but we can find out," Randy whispered confidently. "C'mon, let's hide in the secret passageway. We can listen from there." They all climbed in, crowding together so they could listen for the stranger's passage. Soon his footsteps grew louder and then they ceased, very close to their hideaway. They all held their breath, hoping he wouldn't decide to look for them. Shortly thereafter, they heard a lighter footfall drawing closer. Randy closed his eyes, imagining the scene outside their hideout. Professor Granger was drawing nearer, her wand held high to shed light for her to see. Suddenly he heard a gasp.

"Who's there?" she cried out menacingly.

"Heh heh. I thought that'd get your attention," the stranger said.

"_Harry!"_ she asked unbelievingly.

Randy and his friends all started at her exclamation. It was common knowledge that she and Ron Weasley had been Harry Potter's closest friends. There were rumors floating about that Harry Potter was not as dead as everyone had previously believed, but that he had been captured by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and then tortured for seven years. Could it be possible that this stranger was the famous _Harry Potter?_ Randy, Joe, and Chris all looked at each other questioningly, and then made a silent agreement to discuss it when they got back to the dormitory. They might be overheard and discovered if they talked here.

"The one and only," Harry said.

"When did you get your Invisibility Cloak back? I thought that Dumbledore was keeping it for you."

"_Was_ is a past tense word, Professor Granger."

"Well take it off so I don't feel like I'm talking to air. And when did you find out that I'm teaching here?"

"This look familiar? You can't hide from it, you know?"

"The Map!" Professor Granger cried in glee.

A chilling thought ran down Randy's spine. _He has the Marauder's Map. So that means that if he looks at it, he'll know that we're still here._ He held his breath, praying that the stranger wouldn't look at the Map.

"What are you teaching anyway?" the stranger inquired.

"Defense Against the Dark Arts. I only started this year. It's still cursed you know. No one's been able to hold the position for longer than a year. Professor Dumbledore is starting to get desperate, since I told him I won't be staying on another year. Let's sit down. I have too many questions to ask you."

"But alas, I cannot," Harry said theatrically. "I'm not even supposed to be here. I told Professor Dumbledore that I'd go straight back to my rooms. I only came here because…" he paused. _That's it; we're done for,_ Randy thought despairingly. _He's going to tell her._ "Because I remembered all the times I snuck into Hogsmeade using this passage. It reminded me of Sirius and my dad and all the fun times that you, me, and Ron used to have together before Voldemort struck again. Then I saw your name approaching and it only gave me extra incentive."

Everyone stiffened when Harry spoke the name that had never been uttered except by the very foolish.

"Oh Harry," Granger said sympathetically. "I can't imagine all that he put you through these past seven years. And I can't help feeling so horribly guilty. We gave up on you so easily. We tossed your memory aside like it was nothing; like it didn't even matter. You probably hate us for it. And if you don't you should!" she cried miserably.

"Hermione, I can't say that I'm not furious with all of you deep down. I am. And I can't say that I didn't despise every one of you after I finally accepted you'd given up on me. I did. But you know what? It's not worth crying over, so stop. It's all right. It really is. I'd die in a heartbeat if I could save someone. I've tried, but Voldemort didn't let me. And I would have told him what the Prophecy said if it would've meant saving all of you. So I guess I'm not so mad at you after all."

The professor sniffed. _My gosh, she's actually crying._ "I always did wonder if you really knew what the Prophecy said or not. I guess you found out, huh?"

"Yeah, but I'm not gonna tell you what it said. I still need to accept it." There was silence for a while and Randy was beginning to wonder if they were still there when the stranger spoke again.

"Well, I don't want Ron and Sirius to get worried about me. I said I'd see them back there. They might start tearing the castle apart if I'm not back soon." There was a pause and the stranger grunted. "You know, I don't know if these scars will ever really heal. There's so many of them. I'm gonna end up a crotchety old man that can tell you a month in advance when a _drizzle_ of rain's coming." Granger giggled. "So when are you going to be my guard? I'm told that they get replaced regularly. What is today anyway?"

"Well, since it's about one thirty in the morning, it's Thursday. And I'm a guard on weekends, when I'm not teaching. This was fun Harry. We haven't talked in a long time. We should do this again."

"Tomorrow at midnight then. I'm allowed to go out during the day but Dumbledore would prefer I avoid that and stay with the nighttime hours, even though there are some rule breakers." Randy blushed. "It's a date then?"

"It's a date," Professor Granger said laughingly. "Bye."

"Bye." Randy heard footsteps echoing down the hall but waited a while before climbing out of the statue. His friends followed him and they stared at each other in awe. They climbed their way back to the Gryffindor common room. They sat down in the squashy chairs by the fireplace and continued to sit there in silence.

Finally Joe said, "Well, what do you make of it?"

"I don't know. They were speaking in riddles."

"No they weren't," Randy said. "It's Harry Potter. He's alive. He was captured and tortured by You-Know-Who, but he's still alive."

"Randy that's a good guess. I'm sure that's what we all came up with, right Chris?" Christopher nodded. "See? But that's all it is; a guess; a hunch. There's no proof."

"Did you listen to anything they said? There were white flags all over their conversation surrendering everything. Miss Granger was one of Harry Potter's best friends though school. So was Ron Weasley and Sirius Black is his Godfather. You-Know-Who was the one that ruined their relationship _seven years ago._ There were loads more. There's no other explanation. It's Harry Potter." Neither of his friends contradicted him. They sat in a reverie for an hour until they all fell asleep.

AN: GAAAAHHH! FINALS! must…. study…!

R&R! -Talicr


	10. Confrontations

**Disclaimer: **Wow. Do you know what? I have serious issues with the word disclaimer. So far, I have managed to do Sidclaimer, Dismaimer, and Disnamer. frowns I even messed up on some of those. shrugs Oh well. Here's a chapter, including the characters and Harry Potter objects that I do not own.

**Chapter Ten**

**Confrontations**

"Alright, are you ready Chris?" Joe asked as the bell rang for classes later in the morning.

"_What?_ I thought _you_ were gonna do it. _I'm_ not," Chris protested. They had decided that morning that they would confront Professor Granger about the stranger Harry without letting on that they had actually talked to him. Each seemed to have made his own assumption as to who would do it.

"What are you talking about? I distinctly remember you volunteering," Joe lied importantly.

"I did _not,_ you little liar," Chris objected.

"Yes you did," Joe persisted.

"_No,_ I did no–"

"Something wrong boys?" Professor Granger inquired, interrupting Chris and forcing the two bickering teenagers to tackle the subject head-on.

"Guys, let's just do it together," Randy said exasperatedly. He turned to his Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. "Miss Granger, we have something we'd like to ask you."

"I'm sorry Randy," she said with a smile. "I'm afraid that I can't give you three another extension on your paper on boggarts."

Randy shook his head, "It's not that," he said as he handed her the overdue paper out of his bag. "We wanted to ask you about–" he paused, fortifying his courage, "about Harry Potter!"

Professor Granger stiffened. "Why do you want to know about him?" she asked quietly but defensively.

"Well, we found the passage into Hogsmeade and we were in it when you were talking to that stranger. You called him Harry. We heard your whole conversation."

After moments of silence while she absorbed what they had said she replied gravely, "This is beyond my jurisdiction. If you'll follow me, we'll resolve this." The three silently fell in line behind her and wound their way through the bustling students trying to make their way to their next class._ I wonder where she's taking us,_ Randy thought. _Looks like to Dumbledore's office. _They followed her until she came to a wall that had a very intricate stone gargoyle. _"Skittles,"_ she said, and the gargoyle revealed a staircase. "Come along," Miss Granger instructed as she lifted her robes to ascend the stairway. The three friends looked at each other. Chris shrugged and they turned to follow their professor. They came to a door at the apex of the stairs. Miss Granger opened it and walked in. "Headmaster," she called.

"Hermione?" Professor Dumbledore called. "Ah please, come in. I see you have brought me three of our pupils. Please, have a seat. Yes, you too, Mr. Zimmerman, Mr. English, and Mr. Griffin. Please, tell me the nature of _this_ visit to my office," he said with a slight smile and a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

"Headmaster," Professor Granger murmured, "they've discovered our visitor in the castle."

Professor Dumbledore's face blanched. "I see," he said somberly. He looked sharply at the three offenders. "Have you told anyone?" he asked.

"No sir," they all murmured in unison.

"Very well. Perhaps the damage is not irreparable. Dobby!" he called. A small House Elf was at his side in an instant.

"Yes sir?" he asked humbly.

"Would you please fetch our guest from the Visedain Chambers? Tell him to wear his Invisibility Cloak on his way up here and inform Nymphadora and Kingsley that they are not needed." The House Elf, Dobby, bowed and ran to carry out the task given him. "In the mean time, you can inform me of the events that led to you coming here."

Harry was just finishing up his breakfast of eggs, bacon, a bagel, and some orange juice while reading the _Daily Prophet_ when a familiar face entered the kitchen, shown in by Tonks. The guard had shifted at seven thirty in the morning and Harry had bid farewell to Sirius and Ron and hello to Tonks and Shacklebolt.

"Harry, sir?" a tentative voice inquired as Harry was taking a sip of orange juice and reading another rumor about Harry Potter's return. Harry almost spit out his juice.

"_Dobby?"_ he asked unbelievingly. "You're still working here? After seven years?" He paused, thinking that he might be sending the impression that he wasn't happy to see his old friend. "It's really good to see another familiar face Dobby. I'm glad to see you. What're you doing here anyway?"

"Headmaster Dumbledore requested that you come see him, Harry sir," Dobby said with a smile.

"Oh, I'll go see him when all the students are at lunch then," Harry said happily. Dumbledore had given him a reason to vacate his cave, even if it was temporarily.

"Headmaster Dumbledore wishes to see you now, Harry Potter, sir. And he requests that you wear your Cloak of Invisibility on your way there, Harry sir."

"_Now?"_ Harry said, confused. "What's so important that he wants me to come when all of the students are wandering the halls?" he asked himself. _Ah well. Whatever. I'll find out when I get there I guess._ "Alright, I'll get ready." Harry hurriedly cleared the table and brushed his teeth. He attempted to tame his mane of jet-black hair but to no avail. By the time he was finished he was sure that he had only stimulated his rebellious hair. It looked even worse than when he had started. He ran his hand through in frustration, but then went into his room and snatched up his Invisibility Cloak off of the floor. He put it in the crook of his arm and entered the kitchen to tell Dobby he was ready only to find that the little House Elf had already left. He shrugged and exited his dwelling. Tonks and Shacklebolt were waiting for him when Harry shut the door behind him.

"Dumbledore wants to see me. Are you two coming?" he asked briskly. They both shook their heads.

"Dobby told us we 'aren't needed'," Shacklebolt said with a small smile. Tonks grinned wolfishly. Harry shrugged nonchalantly and made his way up the stairs, wondering about the nature of that savage smirk. When he reached the wall that led to the outside he settled his Invisibility Cloak over his bony shoulders and threw the hood up over his head covering him in a disguising shroud of invisibility. _"Visedain,"_ he commanded, and hoped that there weren't any students there to witness it. His wish was granted, and he found no one on the other side though children were still about on the lower levels. The passage closed ominously behind him as he took the quickest route to Professor Dumbledore's office. He checked the hallway around the Headmaster's quarters to be sure that no one would wonder why the Headmaster's Chamber was opening on its own. After he had established that it was clear, he approached the gargoyle and muttered, _"Skittles,"_ and ascended the stairway. He took off his cloak and then knocked on the door. There was a pause and then, "Enter." Harry pushed open the door. He stopped dead when he saw who was there.

Everyone was looking when the door opened. Harry blinked a few times, wondering if he was seeing things. But each time his eyes opened anew there were still five people sitting there: Professor Dumbledore, Hermione, Joseph English, Christopher Griffin, and Randal Zimmerman. "H-h-headmaster," Harry stammered, "a-am I … early o-or … late maybe?" Harry automatically thought that perhaps Dobby had delivered the message wrong and Harry was supposed to come later after all. "Dobby told me you wanted to see–" Dumbledore held up his hand to stay Harry's babbling and Harry finished his sentence in indiscernible mumbles.

"Please, Harry, have a seat," Albus Dumbledore instructed, motioning to an open seat. Harry furrowed his brow in confusion but tentatively obeyed. _I bet they snitched,_ he thought darkly. He slowly lowered himself into a chair while the boys failed to try to cast unobtrusive glances his way. He ran his fingers through his hair in a succumbing manner, but also tried to cover his scar with hair.

"Last night," his former Headmaster began, and Harry thought,_ Yep here it comes,_ "when you left my office,"_ I'm dead,_ "you apparently went and," _Just kill me now,_ "visited with," _Stupid, snot-nosed little tattlers, _"Miss Granger while she was on her patrol." _Huh? What!_ "These boys had discovered the passage into Honeydukes cellar and were in their little hideaway while you and Professor Granger talked. They listened to your whole conversation and made the assumption that _you_ are Harry Potter when they heard you're first name. What do you have to say to them?"

Harry was confused and he was sure that it showed on his face._ "Me?"_ he said, placing a hand on his chest. "You want me to talk to them?" Dumbledore nodded. "Alright," Harry said doubtfully. He turned to the three boys warily. They were watching him eagerly. "You think _I'm_ Harry Potter, do you?" he asked sarcastically, some of his courage back. He assumed that Dumbledore wanted him to keep the secret that they had so painstakingly established. _Then why didn't he just tell them that they were wrong and give them detention for being out after hours? Why did he bring me into it? _"Well, hate to break it to you boys, but I'm not him. As far as I know, he's dead. V– You-Know-Who," Harry barely caught himself, and he looked over the boys faces to see if they had caught it, "killed him seven years ago, unless those rumors that are flying around are true." To his dismay, it looked like Randy had caught him. "Frankly, if he's alive at St. Mungo's like people keep saying, I might be tempted to sneak in and visit him, once I've recovered my health." Harry sighed, and then slapped his knees in preparation to heave himself out of the comfortable chair. "Well, there you have it. If that's all, Professor?" Harry asked as he rose to leave.

"It's a nice story for an on-the-spot alibi," Randy said, "but I think I'm going to have to call your bluff. There's almost nothing that you can say that can prove that you're not him."

"Yeah," Joe said. "In fact, I bet you that if you lifted up your hair right now, we'd see your scar."

"You look exactly like him," Chris said. "The hair, the glasses, the eyes, the frame of body. We've seen pictures of you. You can't just throw us off like that. We're usually smarter than that." Harry raised an eyebrow and Chris smiled.

He turned to Hermione. She nodded slightly. He cast his eyes desperately toward Dumbledore. The Headmaster's eyes glittered roguishly, and he winked. Harry sighed resignedly.

"Fine. You win." He pushed up his bangs and revealed his infamous scar. "It's nice to meet you," Harry said offering his hand. "I'm Harry James Potter. And you are?" he asked. Randy held out his hand. "Randy Zimmerman," he said with a smile. Harry cocked an eyebrow, still amused by the situation. He turned to the next boy in line, Joe. Joe simply smiled and stated his name as he vigorously shook the proffered hand. And last but not least, Christopher Griffin. After the boy had spoken his name he smiled and covertly winked at Harry. Harry winked back.

"Well, now that that's settled," Professor Dumbledore said, "I must tell you that you being discovered your first night does not bode well for your stay. I'm afraid that from now on, you _must_ take your guard with you when you leave your chambers, along with your map, unless I specify otherwise. I'm rather curious as to how it is that you didn't see these three on the map."

_Uh oh,_ Harry thought. "Well," he said, "they weren't there when I saw Hermione's name, so they must've come through the passageway after I had reached the one-eyed witch. I confess that I deactivated it when I decided to go see Hermione," he added sheepishly. _There I go, lying again._

Dumbledore sighed. "I think that one of your guards should monitor the Map while you're out," he stated pointedly.

"Yes sir," Harry said.

Dumbledore sighed. "You make it very difficult to stay even a touch vexed with you, Mr. Potter," he accused lightly. "If there is nothing that any of you wish to speak to me about, you may go." Hermione, who looked a little anxious, stood up immediately.

"I have a class," she explained, and hurried out the door. Harry stood up and stretched, preparing to leave.

"Wait," Randy said suddenly. Everyone, including his two companions, looked at him with interest. Apparently this was something that he hadn't discussed with his fellows. "Um… Professor Dumbledore, sir… uh… would it be all right, since we know about Har- er… Mister Potter, and all, if… um… if we – you know –… uh… visited him every-now-and-then?" he asked nervously.

Professor Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. "And when would you do this?" he asked. "Students have lunch in the Great Hall and you're not allowed out at night. I would be greatly disappointed if you took the liberty of skipping classes to visit him."

"Well some kids take their lunch back to their dormitories," Joe suggested. We could just take it to his rooms instead. And we don't have classes on weekends," he added.

"And if, say, once every week or so, you gave us a note saying that we could go out on a certain night, then we wouldn't be penalized for it and we wouldn't lose much sleep either," Chris supplied enthusiastically. Dumbledore's face took on a thoughtful expression.

"Sir, your answer has to be yes to their suggestions or a flat out no," Harry said. Dumbledore mulled it around in his mind for several moments before coming to a decision, his eyes twinkling like mad.

"Very well," he gave in. "I will send you messages each week informing you of an appropriate time to visit Harry." He directed a resigned gaze a Harry. "I suppose you had better show them where your chambers are." Harry smiled.

"Don't worry, Professor," Harry said reassuringly. "If their grades begin to slip, then I won't allow them any more visitation privileges until they're back up to speed." The three boys looked apprehensively at one another. "Either that or their time with me will be spent studying," Harry threatened cheerily as he led them out of the Headmaster's study. It suddenly occurred to him that he only had his Invisibility Cloak and that wouldn't prove at all useful in leading the three boys to his underground hole. He hadn't even thought to bring the map so that he could check to see if anyone was around.

"All right, you three," he said as the gargoyle closed behind them. "I'm going to have to stay visible so that you can see me. I would just meet you at the top, but then a teacher might deter you. You're going to have to help me though. If you hear anybody coming before I do, tell me so I can duck into a corner or something. I'm too easily recognizable, especially with all of the papers circulating my picture about. Granted, I look a little different, but it's not by much. People tend to have the same general appearance that they had as a five-year-old through about forty." Harry paused, and then pointed a finger at all of them and gave them a meaningful look. "No talking _about_ me, _to_ me, or to _each other. _I want you to keep your eyes peeled for bystanders. I thought that you had all snitched on me, so I'm not going to go very easy on you at the moment." And with that they set off.

They were actually almost to their destination when Joe hissed, "Someone's coming! _Hide!"_ Harry looked around and chose a corner that was partially hidden in shadows by a pillar. Once there he cast his Invisibility Cloak about his shoulders. He groaned inwardly when he saw who was coming upon the group.

"Zimmerman, English, and Griffin," Professor Snape purred dangerously. "It's second hour. Why aren't you in your classes, I wonder? Could it be that the three of you are skipping?"

"No sir," Christopher said with the exact amount of required humility. _That boy's good,_ Harry couldn't help but think. "We just came from the Headmaster's office."

"Oh really?" Snape asked with mock interest. "And why were you there? Skipping other classes?"

"No," Joe said tightly, trying to keep the heat out of his voice. "We actually aren't supposed to talk to anyone about it."

"Likely story," Snape scoffed. "And even if you _had_ just come from Professor Dumbledore's study, you would be on your way to your second class. Ten points each from Gryffindor and detention for all of y–" Harry let him get no further.

"Actually, it's my fault, Professor Snape," Harry said, emerging from the corner. "You see, I was just taking them to my chambers."

Snape turned and gazed at Harry with a mixture of surprise and contempt. "Potter."

"Ah, yes, I would actually appreciate it if you didn't go around saying my surname, seeing as how the Headmaster went to great lengths to see that I have haven here. It's not that I don't trust you, you understand. It's more along the lines of _someone_, who will go unnamed, _accidentally_ let slip the condition of Professor Remus Lupin in my third year at Hogwarts," Harry said lightly as he strode over and placed a hand on Randy's shoulder. Snape's eyes grew slightly wider as he took in Harry's appearance. Seeing a walking skeleton when he remembered a skinny, lively and healthy boy stunned the Potion's Master. Harry smiled. "I'll see that they get to their next class. Your services are no longer required." He gave Randy a light push and the boy started walking. The other two followed suit.

"Wait," Snape said sharply. Harry, who had followed them, turned to his former professor with curiosity plastered on his face. The boys also stopped but Harry waved them along saying, "Is there something else, Professor Snape?"

"Don't try me, Potter," the man said warningly. "Just because Dumbledore has invited you to stay here does not mean I have to even try to put up with your insufferable attitude."

"For the record, Snape," Harry said, dropping all pretenses, "you broke decorum first." Snape raised his eyebrows dangerously, as if daring Harry to say something else. "Did you want something, or did you just speak because you enjoy the sound of your nasal voice?"

Snape's nose twitched, but he went on. "You said that you were taking them to your chambers when this is in strict violation of Professor Dumbledore's wishes."

"Oh, but Headmaster Dumbledore _wished_ me to take them there," Harry said innocently.

"Why?" the professor snapped.

"I forget Snape. What did that parchment tell you in my third year? I just can't remember," Harry said, tapping his nose. "Would you be so kind as to help me out?" Harry paused. "Oh yes," he said pointedly. "Keep your abnormally large nose out of other people's business." Harry stopped, and then regained his cheery attitude. "You know, you should take that advice. It might help you in your social relationships," Harry said as he made his way to leave.

"We're not through here, Potter!" Snape hissed. Harry whirled around with previously checked fire burning in his eyes.

"You know, I did always wonder something Snape. Perhaps you can help me on _this_ one. _I_ was under the impression that you were doing undercover work with Voldemort. If this is so, _why_ then did Dumbledore never find out that I was his prisoner? Is it possible that, in _seven years,_ you didn't manage to regain Voldemort's trust enough for him to tell you that he had me captive and was torturing me? Is it possible that he never offered you the _pleasure_ of pulling out my teeth, or electrocuting me, or taking a hammer to me when he knew that you and I have always been rivals? When he knew that you hated my father with a passion that did not die with him?" Harry pretended to wait for Snape's reply. Then he asked contemptuously, "Drawing a blank?" He waited for another few moments and turned away with his flaming cheeks and eyes that threatened to well up. "I didn't think so," he said coldly as he walked away.

He met up with Joe, Randy, and Chris on the next floor. They shied away from him. Harry knew that his face was like a thundercloud so tried to lighten his mood and appearance. "I don't suppose there's any chance that you didn't hear that, is there?" Harry asked uncomfortably. When they didn't answer, and the awkward silence began to stretch Harry cleared his throat. "Right. If you'll follow me," he said, and continued toward their destination. The group followed Harry at a distance so Harry had to wait a moment before opening the passage. _"Visedain,"_ he said so they all could hear. The wall ominously opened to permit them entrance. "Actually, you were right." They all gave him a puzzled look. "I _am_ staying in a secret passageway and a secret room." It took a moment for them to remember the night before when they had jokingly suggested it. Harry was rewarded with a small smile from each of them.

"Look," Harry said finally as they began their descent, "there's a history between Professor Snape and I. You have to understand that." The wall sealing behind them punctuated his statement. "For this arrangement to work, you can't be afraid of me. I should have probably saved my outburst for a time when it was just the two of us, and I apologize for that. But if you're going to be skirting around me our relationship is going to get very old very fast. Do you understand?"

They nodded. Harry rolled his eyes.

"Don't nod your heads!" Harry said sternly. _"Say something."_

"Yes," they replied promptly in unison.

"Good," Harry said as he descended the stairs. It was very dark and he stopped when he felt one of them stumble into him. "You all know the spell to light up your wands, right?" he asked. They nodded, then hurriedly said yes. "Right. _Lumos,"_ he said as he drew out his wand. "You're going to need it coming down here. It's a rather bumpy and long way to fall." They each extracted a wand and muttered the command, lighting the stairwell with an eerie light.

"Um, Mister Potter," Randy said uncertainly as they continued, "is it fine if we talk now?" Harry nodded and Randy went on. "We're sorry that we eavesdropped on your conversation with Granger."

"I think it would be best if you referred to her as Professor Granger," Harry informed him, smirking silently at the irony of that statement. "At least when you're talking to her, or where she can hear you. Things might go easier for you if you do. I'll speak of her as Hermione, but you can't do that."

"Oh. Okay," he said, sounding a little flustered. "But, it's just that you didn't answer any of our questions and your entrance yesterday was a little mysterious to all of us. We were just curious. We're sorry if we got you in trouble with Dumble- Professor Dumbledore." The others nodded solemnly.

"Like I said, my first thought as I came in was that you snitched," Harry confessed. "And I think that Professor Dumbledore's confidence and trust in me has probably declined since last night was my first night here. I'm not going to be able to move as freely as I might have had I not revealed myself to you, but that's all right. Now I'll have some company to look forward to. But it would have been better if you had waited at _least_ a week before announcing your knowledge to the staff," Harry said in a pained voice. "It would have put me in a much better light." They smiled at his remark as they reached the foundation of the stairs. "Oh, and you'll want to apologize to Hermione. She's probably feeling responsible for my discovery."

They continued down the hallway and the boys began to peer forward as if expecting something. Harry understood what they were doing. He remembered the elusive feeling that this corridor gave him the previous day. But to Harry's eyes, they were coming up on the lighted strip. He stopped and they looked at him, puzzled. He made sure they were paying attention to where he was and then stepped through. A moment later, the three followed him through. Tonks and Shacklebolt were startled by the three visitors, but recovered almost instantaneously and had wands leveled. Harry quickly stepped into the path of the wands.

"It's alright," Harry assured them. "Dumbledore told me to bring them down."

"_Students?"_ Tonks asked incredulously. Shacklebolt was giving him an intense look that demanded an immediate explanation.

"These students, Randy Zimmerman, Chris Griffin, and Joe English," he said pointing to each individually, "discovered my presence here. It's not really relevant how, but they informed the Headmaster and Hermione. After a bit of debriefing, Dumbledore decided that it was safe if they come down every now and then. So get to know their faces because it would probably be a bad thing if you blew their heads off or something." His two friends smiled at that, accepting his explanation and assurances. Harry returned the smile and continued toward the door.

"Uh, Harry," Shacklebolt said, "you've company in there."

"What?" Harry asked, turning back to them.

"_Someone_ came while you were out," he supplied. "He had a signed parchment with permission to come see you." Harry did not like the way he had emphasized 'someone'.

"_Who?"_ he asked suspiciously.

"Draco Malfoy," Tonks said apprehensively.

"_Malfoy?"_ he asked incredulously with a hint of underlying danger in his tone. They nodded.

"You three stay out here. I'll only be a moment," he ordered the boys as he turned to enter his chambers. He opened the door and stepped in.

"MALFOY!" Harry roared before the door had quite slammed shut. He realized with a slight pang of guilt that Joe, Randy, and Chris had definitely heard that. They weren't going to think very highly of him by the day's end if it continued the way it was. His embarrassment vanished, however, when he saw Draco Malfoy look up, startled, from examining a book.

"Potter," he stammered with a tentative smile that vanished as Harry advanced upon him.

"What are _you_ doing here?" Harry demanded of him. Malfoy stood his ground and visibly composed himself, recovering from the shock of Harry's initial outburst.

"Oh come now," he tried to scoff in an offhand way. "Don't you think that we're just a little old for school-day rivalries? I mean it's in the past isn't it?"

"The last memory I have of you was when I was about to curse you in the middle of a hallway Malfoy," Harry said pointedly. "I haven't really had a reason to get over it. And the fact that your father was the one that captured me doesn't help your situation here."

Malfoy's composure faltered for an instant but he stabilized himself almost instantly. "Yes, well, you can't blame someone for the father he has, can you? I mean we can't exactly _choose_ them after all."

"I seem to recall you blaming Ron, Hermione, and me frequently for what you believed were failings in _our_ parents. Besides, when it comes to you, I hold strong to the maxim of the apple falling not far from the tree. I've had too much contact with your sort to believe otherwise."

"You know Potter, you're not making this very easy," Malfoy complained snobbishly. "I've business here, whether you like it or not. I thought that I would take the opportunity to smooth out some rough edges between the two of us, but seeing as how you'll have none of that, I'll get right to the point."

"Oh no you won't," Harry said before he could get any farther. "You haven't explained to me, in intricate detail I might add, how you managed to get in here."

"Thank you," Malfoy said expansively. "That brings me to why I'm here. There's a history behind it however, so we may want to sit down," he said, moving to do so.

"_Don't_ sit," Harry commanded. Draco Malfoy froze halfway down, shooting Harry an exasperated look. "I wouldn't get comfortable, is all I'm saying. You're about to leave in any case. I have company outside the door and I think it's about time for them to come in."

"This can't really wait, Potter," Malfoy said in a pained voice. "If you want to contradict me further, I have a signed parchment granting me an immediate audience with you," he said, proffering a folded scrap of parchment.

"And who signed it?" Harry demanded as he snatched the parchment out of the man's fingers. "Voldemort?" Malfoy winced.

"Actually, if you'll open you'll see it was- ," Harry opened, saw the signature and voiced it simultaneously with Malfoy, "-Albus Dumbledore." The only difference in their tone was that Harry's was one of incredulity.

"Well that's just rich," Harry muttered malignantly. "He wants us to kill each other. That'll solve the problems he has about keeping me away from Voldemort and eliminating at least one of the spies."

"Would you care to repeat that?" Malfoy said indignantly.

"You heard me," Harry replied disgustedly. After a moment of dark contemplation, Harry relented. "Fine," he said, "but I'm bringing my guests in first." Malfoy spread his hands in acquiescence. "Good," Harry said as he spun towards the door. He tried to make his face appear uncaring before opening the door.

"Guys," he said, thrusting his head out, "you can come in now. There're some things that my unexpected company and I need to discuss, but you can wait in my room, or the library, or wherever while we talk. I promise this won't take long." They all looked at him apprehensively before they filed in. As Harry let them in, Malfoy spoke up.

"_Students,_ Potter?"

Harry turned to him with an icy green glare. "Did I say you could speak?" he asked coldly. Malfoy cocked an eyebrow, but bowed his head in supposed surrender. Harry led them to the room farthest away from where Malfoy waited for him, which was the library.

"I'm sorry that this is taking so long," Harry apologized after they were all inside. "None of this was supposed to happen. I'm usually a rather cheerful person. You've seen nothing but the bad side of me. If you want, I'll make it up to you by helping you with your homework this weekend. What year are you in, anyway?"

"We're all in fifth," Randy supplied.

"Right. I promise this won't take long. You're already going to have loads of homework just from what you've missed so far," Harry warned prudently before he shut the door and headed back to where the former student of the serpent lay in wait.

He came upon Malfoy while he was examining an intricately wrought table, running his fingers over some of the more elaborate detail. "Will you stop touching my stuff?" he demanded irritably as he sank into a cushy chair across from the one Malfoy had made to take earlier. Malfoy had straightened instantly and was watching him nervously. Harry rolled his eyes and gave an exaggerated motion to the chair, saying, "Well sit down. We've got this long, involved story to get through, after all."

Malfoy smiled and took his seat. He leaned forward, elbows resting on knees and hands clasped. "Alright, Potter. What you have to understand before we begin is that things have drastically changed since you er- left. Loyalties do not reside in the same place that they once did. My mother, rest her soul, was never a follower of You-Know-Who, but she held the same beliefs that he inspired. She never knew that my father was once again an active follower until you landed him in jail. Of course, she was properly wroth with you, but that dims in comparison against the rage she had for my father for keeping it from her.

"Until then, I had thought that my parents were unified in goals, thoughts, and beliefs. She didn't oppose He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's – uh – _values – _but she resented that he had returned and enveloped my father in his mess again. She thought that he would never be able to regain all of his lost power, so she publicly denounced having anything further to do with my father after his arrest. At first, I was mortified at her actions and withdrew from her. I was overjoyed when word was sent that my father and his cohorts had escaped from prison since there were no longer any dementors. I was certain that he would return for me and take me with him to be by his side. But he never showed up. Announcement of your abduction came and went, then the news of your alleged death. By this time, my mother had regained my affection and trust.

"I wasn't actually sorry about everything that had happened between the two of us, and I wasn't exactly sad that you had died, but at this point I wanted nothing to do with You-Know-Who. You probably won't be thrilled by the knowledge that I attended your funeral, either. By the time I graduated from Hogwarts, I was a changed man. I had abruptly ceased all affiliation with Crabb and Goyle and had withdrawn from my House. In fact, I think that Slytherin was considering renouncing me when they found that I was spending much of my time with occupants of other Houses, mostly Gryffindor. I thought you might like to know that I improved my standing with Weasley and Granger to the point where they now grudgingly accept me." Harry, who had been watching Malfoy with dead eyes peering over fingers in a steeple, let him get no further.

"This is all very touching, Malfoy," he said apathetically, "but is there any point to your ramblings?"

Malfoy gave him a reproachful look. "I'm _trying_, apparently to no avail, to–"

"Evoke sympathy?" Harry supplied. "Empathy, perhaps. Are you trying to touch a feeling on a connection that I always wished I had had with my father and/or mother?"

"_No,"_ Malfoy replied testily. "I'm trying to make it easier for you to grasp the concept."

Harry put out his hands and closed them tightly, as if holding on to something. "Oh, I've grasped it," he assured Malfoy. "Now is there any way that we can skip to the end?"

Malfoy sighed in exasperation. "Fine," he sneered contemptuously. "After I graduated, I applied for the position of auror and was accepted. Not long after, there was a sighting of my father. I went and brought him in personally. He was, of course, affronted that I had anything to do with the side of the Light. When we arrived at our department in the Ministry of Magic he stole someone's wand, announced that he was the one who had beaten all of the defenses that Dumbledore could conjure up to protect you, and committed suicide." Harry had begun to formulate an idea of where Malfoy seemed to be going, and he didn't like it.

"I've changed, Potter. I'm no longer that impudent, egotistical boy who acted like he owned everything. After a couple of years at the Ministry, Dumbledore approached me." He drew a deep breath, looked Harry directly in the eye and stated bluntly, "I'm in the Order of the Phoenix, Harry. And I'm to be one of your regular guards."

Harry sat there in his chair with a blank expression on his face. He shook his head after a moment, as if trying to physically clear his thoughts. "I'm sorry," Harry stuttered. "Would you consider repeating that? I'm afraid that I must have zoned out or something because I thought you just said that you're part of the Order and that you're going to guard me."

"You heard me right," Malfoy insisted. "Dumbledore and I both thought that it would be better if you found out first and if I was the one informing you." "My first shift's this evening with Fowler, after Tonks and Shacklebolt.

Harry didn't even bother with grabbing his cloak. As he made his way out of his little tunnel, he darkly reflected upon the events that had just so unceremoniously unfolded. After Malfoy had informed him of his new occupation, Harry had stared at him for a moment, no doubt experiencing minor shock. Then he had abruptly stood and, ignoring Malfoy's protests, walked out of the room. As he mindlessly walked out of his apartments, he vaguely noticed Tonks and Shackelbolt exchange startled glances and then hurriedly follow after him. Harry had emerged from his stupor about halfway up the massive stairwell. He guiltily realized that he had just abandoned the three boys that had so eagerly followed him. And after Harry grasped where it was he was headed, he sadly realized that it would probably be quite a long time before he saw them again; if he saw them again.

"Harry, what's going on?" Tonks insisted as she and her companion hurried to keep up with him. "What happened?"

"We're going to see Dumbledore," Harry replied curtly.

"What?" Shakelbolt objected. "Harry, be reasonable. It's midmorning. Who knows how many students will be out in the corridors? Do you want to be exposed?"

"Dumbledore should have thought about that before he assigned Malfoy to be my guardian," Harry muttered darkly. He didn't think that either had heard him, but they didn't speak to him anymore.

The wall opened before him and Harry stepped out to be greeted with noise. It was the noise of hundreds and hundreds of students making their way to their next classes. Harry made his way to the stairs and peered over the banister as he descended. He watched as groups went leisurely to the classroom down the hall and as some scurried to make their class on the opposite end of the castle, hoping to catch the more direct staircases before they changed. Harry smiled, remembering when he used to do those things. Then his features darkened as he remembered that those days were forever robbed of him. He was startled out of his reverie by an insistent Shacklebolt after they had moved several floors down.

"Get your head down, boy!" he hissed. Harry's gaze darted around. Sure enough, there was a group of five students making their way up the same staircase he was moving down. Harry cleared his throat and tried to be unobtrusive while ruffling his hair. The students cast odd glances his way, testifying that he'd failed and probably would have better off continuing the way he'd been going. He turned his gaze downward and awkwardly passed the group.

It wasn't long before Harry reached the gargoyle sentry. _"Skittles,"_ Harry muttered and watched as the way was revealed. His trek up and down the stairs of Hogwarts had done nothing to trim down his mood. It occurred to him belatedly as he pushed the door open that he should have planned out what he wanted to say, instead of just letting the torrential flood break loose.

"Just tell me exactly whose side you're on, Dumbledore!" Harry bellowed as he entered the chambers.

Hi! I am Talicr's friend. I'm helping her come up with some amusing disclaimers. glares I am **_not _**crazy, thank you very much! looks off at corner Not now, coconuts! clears throat opens mouth to speak, but turns instead to glare at other corner You either yellow submarine! returns at last to readers So anyway, here I was sitting and reading this story (actually paging through it since I haven't actually had the chance to read, just help write some amusing disclaimers) when I noticed something. I turned to Talicr, and had the following discussion…

Agent Rubber Duck (that's me): Snape is still teaching?

Talicr: Yeah

Rubber Duck: pauses _Old!_

Anyway, you can all now go on to waiting for the next chapter. laughs evilly while people squirm in anticipation MWAHAHAHAHAHAH!

Talicr: I don't know her. She walked into my house randomly and took over my dinosaur computer (which isn't really mine).

Rubber Duck: You can't deny me! resumes evil laughter MWAHAHAHA! smirks at Talicr Unless of course you'd like me to start quoting Geometry class. If I remember correctly, there are quite a few incidents worthy of public ridicule…

Talicr: Most of that was you anyways. Go ahead, I'll laugh with them.

Rubber Duck: . . . . . . . So you don't deny that you know me?

Talicr:…….BLAST!

AN: Yes, that was the infamous Agent Rubber Duck. I'm glad that you all had a chance to get acquainted with her. She's quite amusing. Maybe I'll fill you in on some of those geometry incidents one of these days.

Ugh… I reread this chapter and cringed. So many errors. Comma splices, passive voice, you name it… it's there!

I have some bad news for you. cowers as readers glare Ummm…… well, funny story. hehe… loosens collar Remember how I told you that I wrote this when I was in eighth grade? Well, now we have caught up with everything that I have previously written. dives behind random object to avoid dangerous projectiles Wait! STOP! Ahem… Just hold on a second! Yes, you have caught up with me, so updates are going to have longer intervals between them. HOLD IT! Gosh, people! You know, if you kill me, then I won't be able to update at all! EVER AGAIN! So, intervals will get bigger – stop! – BUT the story will get better (hopefully) because you will be up-to-date with my current skill level. muses (Hmmm…. There is the fact, however, that all previous chapters have been privy to two years of revision…! Wait! I shoudn't have told you that!) AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH! runs away, followed by exceptionally angry fans…. with pitchforks, and tar and feathers, and large heavy stones

Ummm… R&R? YIPES


	11. Two Author's Notes

**Author's Note**

**Contrition and Self-Loathing**

Well, I imagine that you all are none too happy with me. Yes, quite understandable. It's been – er – quite some time, hasn't it, my faithful readers? My last update was somewhere around January 16th . . . of '06. Tis now July 15th . . . of '07. Took me rather a long time to get my act together, didn't it?

Well, once again, you lot are going to have to go through that whole process again. My apologies . . . again. I have further developed my writing style and skill, so you're going to have to get used to it. You'll have observed three rather abrupt shifts with me, all together. You witnessed my 8th grade writing style for my story (Oh, how I long for the simplicity that was middle school); you caught mere glimpses of my sophomore fashion in my disclaimers and author's notes; and now, dear readers, you shall see the methods to my madness as a senior. I seem to rather fancy two-year jumps, don't I? I dearly hope that I have improved.

I believe an explanation is in order. You see, I received a rather nasty flame from someone, and my flame of inspiration was suddenly and unforeseeably snuffed. I had no desire to continue the telling that I had labored over for so long. Despite the many encouraging words from my kind readers, I resolved to end my updates. And yet, I couldn't bring myself to post it as discontinued. For that would mean that I had truly given up, that someone out there with a sharp tongue had got the better of me. And everyone would know it. I'm a very poor loser, you see.

And so it sat, cold, alone, abandoned, gathering cyber-dust in the public's archive that is simply taking up space. I never quite forgot about it; but it sat in the back of my mind, along with all my ideas. I refused to acknowledge it. Occasionally – as unwanted thoughts and subjects are wont to do – it would creep up on me, and I would have a flash of inspiration. However, it would vanish almost as suddenly as it had come; and it, too, would be pushed into that untouched chamber of my mind. And it was always quite awkward when this story would crop up in my conversations at school with my friends. I was ashamed that I had done what I despise. I had started a story . . . and had deserted it. It's different for all the other authors who do it. I can pout and fume all I want about a discontinued story of someone else's, but it doesn't change the fact that I don't know why they stopped writing. But me . . . I know exactly why _I_ stopped writing. Oh what a hypocrite I was.

And then today, on pure whim, I visited my story. After reading some of those old, silly disclaimers and author's notes, I went on to reread all of the reviews. They triggered something, some new _life_ inside that has been in a deep slumber for quite some time. I hope you'll be happy to hear that my metaphorical candle of inspiration has been lit once again. And it is so because of you all.

For some reason, I stopped receiving any of the reviews you posted, so I was unaware that any of you were still requesting updates. An unhappy twist of fate. Had I known, I might have been quicker to return.

As things stand, I have only a small portion of chapter eleven written. And, as the seventh and final book of the _real_ series débuts this very Saturday, I'll be a bit preoccupied with it. I'm sure all of you, of anyone, will understand _that._ However, I make a promise to you all that I _will_ continue my story, and I _will_ finish it. You can hold me to that.

Talicr


End file.
